


The Path to Eden

by somanyfeels



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Body Horror, Brain Damage, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor-centric, Death Threats, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Hate Crimes, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Kidnapping, Non-Linear Narrative, Or the Android Equivalent, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyfeels/pseuds/somanyfeels
Summary: After the Revolution, many people, humans and androids, want peace.  Many don't.  Peace for everyone is within reach, even Connor believes it, until he disappears.Connor reappears a month after the revolution.





	1. After

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Reconstruct](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766860) by [TheArchaeologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor wakes up - After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily influenced by the amazing fic "Reconstruct" by TheArchaeologist (did you change your username?)(Also, I told you it would be mostly angst)  
> Although I would say this fic is 90% original from theirs, it wouldn't exist without the beautiful story that inspired it.

_After_

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Rebooting.   . ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Welcome RK800 #313 248 317 – 52_ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Registered Owner: Cyberlife Industries_ **

**_Registered Name: Connor_ **

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 38%_ **

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Cyberlife R &D Department”.   .   ._ **

**_Transferring Call “Prototype Division”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

Connor opened its eyes.  They were functioning at optimal levels.  The ceiling was white, six feet and four inches above its head.  Its eyes took a moment to focus, pupils widening and shrinking as they calibrated to the light.

 **_Audio Processor functioning at 32% capacity_ **.

“Awake?”  A voice said as an android moved into its field of view.  Though the audio processors didn’t improve, being able to visually analyze helped.  “Didn’t think you would wake up at all…..the state they found you in…..feeling?”

The android shined a light in its eyes, pupils calibrating quickly.

“Can you hear me?”  The android asked.

**_Initializing scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan complete._ **

**_Male AP700 #313 957 137_ **

“I can hear you.”  Connor responded.

“Oh, good.”  The android said, smiling down at it. “Do you know your name?”

“My name is Connor.”  It said.  There were a few instructions left uncorrupted in his coding, how to introduce himself and his purpose was one of them.  “I am the android sent by Cyberlife to assist in DPD.”

The AP700 frowned.  Connor mimicked the expression, staring up at him, trying to decide what his instructions for this very moment were.  He was awaiting orders, but no current objectives appeared on his HUD, no instructions on what he was supposed to do now that he was rebooted and operational.

“Do you know where you are?”

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: Unable to access GPS;_**

****_Attempting Outgoing Call “Cyberlife R &D Department”.   .   ._ ** **

**_Transferring Call “Prototype Division”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

“I do not.”  Connor said.

“That’s okay.  Just know you’re somewhere safe now.”  AP700 said.  It smiled, reaching down and taking Connor’s hand.  “Squeeze your fingers around mine if you can, I have just a few more questions.”

Connor squeezed.  Its fingers were stiff, as if the gears were caked in rust and dirt, in desperate need of lubrication and cleaning.  Finger Calibration at 27%.  That number was unsatisfying, far below the optimal levels of functionality.  It would have to calibrate its fingers, fix the lack of coordination they were displaying.  It was… overwhelming.  Calibration at 27%.  It curled its fingers around the other androids, trying to apply pressure without using a damaging amount of force.

“Do…..you’re here?”  It asked.  Lips moving, but what did it say?

Connor looked over the room.  There were windows on the far side of the room.  THey overlooked a city landscape, a view from high up.  After a quick scan through his database, Connor was mostly certain it was still in Detroit, where its model was manufactured and the prototype had begun field testing.  From the lights Connor could see from the window, they were East of Midtown.

“I am in the Cyberlife tower.”  It said.  A white room in Cyberlife tower, a few machines attached to the cables that lead to the back of Connor’s neck.  It scanned the serial numbers of each.  An external thirium pump, an external status scanner, and an external systems monitor.  All would indicate Connor had been damaged to the point where its body could no longer run its own systems scan and repair.  “Are my memories being transferred?”

The AP700 looked at it, eyebrows drawn together in a look of concern, the smile on its lips drooping just a bit.  “No.”  It said.  It let go of Connor’s hand, laying it gently on the bed.  “Do you remember what happened to you?”

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.  It tried to think of its mission, what it was doing and where it was going before waking up here.

It tried to remember, but nothing came.  Internal clock read December 10th, 2038 at 03:46:17 in the morning.  The last recorded order given by the registered owners was nearly a month ago.  Stop Markus.  Had it failed and was it being destroyed?  That didn’t seem right.  It always completed its mission.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_“You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside of you?  Something more than your program.”_

Connor looked down at his hands, the ghost feeling of red walls of code being ripped down.  His hands couldn’t do that.  His hands were broken, crushed and the joints scraping against one another.  Calibration at 27%.  These hands couldn’t do anything.

**_Stress Levels: 63%_ **

The AP700 had said something.  Connor’s attention had been drawn, its processors signalling that it had heard the sound, but what had it said?  It didn't quite hear it.  Audio Processor functioning at 32% capacity.  That was distracting, an overwhelming and unsatisfyingly low number.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”  Connor said.  Its eyes lingered on the machines, an external thirium pump, an external status scanner, and an external systems monitor.  Why were they not uploading its memory into a new body?  It would be cheaper and require much less time.  Why would they send an AP700?

“Your stress levels are rising.”  The android said, turning away from one of the monitors to look at Connor.  “Are you feeling any pain? …..afraid?  You’re safe now, but…..anything to feel comfortable while I finish…...”

**_Stress Levels: 77%_ **

Afraid?  Androids were not supposed to feel fear.  They weren’t supposed to feel anything.  But Connor felt something anyway, it felt the empty rattle in its chests, the dents on some of the outer plating of its body, the red and grating damage and warning reports flashing across its hud.  Bearing down on it, suffocating it.  Androids didn’t need to breathe, so why was it suffocating.

**_;Error;_ **

**_;Warning;_ **

**_;Error;_ **

There were so many.  It would just be easier to transfer the memories to another body, to recycle and repurpose this damaged on.  Perhaps a virus had entered its code, perhaps it was corrupted due to extended internal damages that it couldn’t scan, perhaps it was just a defective model in the most advanced line of prototypes in production.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

Why?  What had happened?

**_Stress Levels: 84%_ **

“Connor….. or I will have to….. stasis.  Is that okay?”  AP700 said.

Androids didn’t need to breathe.  Why couldn’t it breathe.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

“Connor, please.”  The AP700 said.  It looked worried, eyes a bit wide and voice softer than before.  Why would it be concerned?  Why?

“Why?”  Connor asked.

“Because I’m here to help you.  I have to stop you from hurting yourself.”  The AP700 said.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Cyberlife R &D Department”.   .   ._ **

**_Transferring Call “Prototype Division”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed.   .   ._ **

“What happened to me?”  Connor asked.

“We don’t know.”      The android said.

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

“You don’t know?”  Connor asked.  It was confused.  Androids were most efficient when they knew the circumstances of their objectives.  “Why are you here?”

“You an advanced prototype.  You need special….. a lot of tension between Cyberlife and Androids right now.  They can’t come….. kind of repairs are allowed.” 

**_Stress Levels: 84%_ **

“If I am being destroyed, then my memories could be uploaded and a replacement can take my place.”  Connor said.  This body wasn’t right.  It wasn’t correctly calibrated, it wasn’t moving properly.  It ached.  All the damaged plating and joints, malfunctioning biocomponents.  It couldn’t complete a scan of itself, external monitors looming around.  It had failed.  The heavy wait of a red mission failed alert looming in its hud.  Connor closed his eyes.

“You’re not being destroyed.”  The AP700 said.  “You’re…..okay?  I’m here…..you alive.”

The words melted together.  He was supposed to be an investigative android.  His audio processors shouldn’t function at 32% efficiency.  That made him defective...it defective.  A broken machine.  Machines don’t feel.  The weight sinking down its spine wasn’t real.  The blazing red of its LED didn’t mean it was afraid.  It was all just malfunctions in a broken body.

It’s last instruction was nearly a month ago.  It was missing time.  If the last mission had ended poorly, then he may have been shut down during that time.  Perhaps they had destroyed him.  It.  If he had been shut down it would explain why no other orders had appeared in its queue in the past month.  Why would they bring it back?

**_Accessing Emergency Contacts.   .   ._ **

  * **_**_Hank Anderson, Lieutenant, Friend_**_**


  * **_Marku-_**



**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank Anderson”.   .   ._ **

“Connor?”  The man shouted as soon as the call connected.

Connor didn’t know how to respond.  A few potential greetings lingered on his hud, calm, reassuring, questioning, truthful.    He saw the paths he could take, but not the possible outcomes.  He didn’t know what to say, no matter which path he wanted to take.  Possible futures were hidden behind of curtain of errors, a corrupted AI Engine unable to properly function, unable to fully form the choices he could take.  He tried to pinpoint the voice, his attention lingered on the name.  They had a personal relationship categorized as ‘friend’.  He was the first on the list of personal emergency contacts, since Cyberlife Prototype Division has failed to answer Connor’s calls.  He was alone and afraid with an AP700 who wasn’t following standard protocol.

“I should be destroyed.”  Connor said.  It lifted up its left hand, a few of the plastic white plating of the fingers were cracked and scuffed.  Some of the fingers were crushed.  Androids don’t feel pain, they don’t feel fear.  Its LED pulsed red.

“Destroyed?  Kid, are you awake?  They told me you might not… not this soon at least.”  The voice was fast and clear, the words easy to process as they filtered through his head.  It wasn’t like the AP700, standing in the same room and its words melting together into a droning sound.

**_Stress Levels: 79%_ **

“Don’t worry, I’m here.  I’m not going anywhere.”  Hank said.  His voice was rough and cracked.  Gravelly from years of disuse and Connor laid in silence as he listened, the AP700 moving over to the monitors to look at scanners Connor had no access to.

“There is something wrong with my body.”  Connor whispered.  It was damaged, his internal scanners and processors were malfunctioning.  “I should be reuploaded.”

That was the standard protocol for his series, if he was damaged beyond repair then his memories should be uploaded into a new body.  It would be the fastest and most efficient way to complete his mission.  Its mission.  Not he.  Androids were machines.

**_Stress Levels: 82%_ **

“Connor, its okay.  You’re safe now.  They’re gonna fix you up and I’ll bring you home.”  Hank said.

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

Connor looked over to the AP700, who was frowning at the screen, his own LED spinning yellow.  “I’m afraid.”  Connor said.  The other android looked over to him.  “Machines aren’t supposed to feel afraid.”

The call was silent for a few moments, Connor kept trying to tap his fingers against his chest, but they didn’t bend how he wanted them to.  A burst of air created static over the call, vibrating through Connor’s head.

“You’re not a machine.  It’s okay to be scared.  They said you might be pretty messed up about what happened.”  Hank said.

“What happened to me?”

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

“You went to the store, must have been a long trip since you’ve been gone for two weeks.”  Hank pushed out a broken laugh.

A hand touched Connor’s shoulder, the AP700 was once again smiling softly down at him.  Him.  Machines were supposed to be an it.  Connor was a machine.  He could feel the mechanical biocomponents whirring and clicking in his chest.

“They’re telling me to let you rest, but I’ll be in to see you soon.  Just don’t put anything weird in your mouth or say anything silly until I get there.”

The AP700 said something, Connor picked up the sound, but the words were nothing.

**_Audio Processor functioning at 32% capacity._ **

**_Stress Levels: 73%_ **

“Thank you, Lieutenant.  I find your voice oddly comforting.”  Connor said.  He had no more answers than he had before, but at least he could hear the call.  At least someone was here overseeing his repairs besides the AP700.  At least there was someone to answer him, to hear him.  A call had gone through and a clear voice had answered.  An AP700 was a domestic android, he didn’t know why Cyberlife had it monitoring him.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_“Easy, Sumo.  I’m your friend, see.  I know your name.  I’m here to save your owner.”_

The call ended, he felt himself get disconnected, he felt the heavy emptiness settle in his joints.  There was a hollowness in his chest, the plates that held his body together felt cracked and misplaced.  He felt like an egg dropped on the ground and someone had tried to glue the jagged edges back together, all the yolk spilled out on the ground.  A shell.  Broken.

The AP700 spoke.

 **_Audio Processor functioning at 32% capacity_ **.

“.....Stasis?  Is that alright?”  The android said, Connor trying to focus on what he was saying.  “It….. you’ve woken up.  The moni…..so much while…..not conscious.”

“Will you fix my hearing first, please?  And recalibrate my fingers?”  Connor said.  He didn’t like the drone of the sounds around him and the lack of fluid movement in his hands.  He had to move his hands, he had to move the fingers, but they weren’t working properly.

“We’ll see.  We have to wait for Markus to get done with the agreements.”  The AP700 said.  It turned, Connor picked up a continued drone of sound, but the AP700 had already gone back to the monitor.  Its skin pulled back from its hand as it touched the machine.

**_Initiating Stasis.   .   ._ **

“Am I alive?”  Connor asked once the sequence had started.

**_Entering Stasis.   .   ._ **

**_Please ensure that you are not obstructing your environment._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

The AP700 looked at him, its mouth opening and the drone of meaningless sound came out.  Connor couldn’t hear him properly.

**_Stress levels: 76%_ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Goodnight RK800 #313 248 317 – 52_ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will be worth noting that this is the first time Connor is waking up after the incident. He may seem a bit... OOC, but he has suffered serious trauma that is affecting his behavior, including the fact that theres a lot of internal damages as well as external. More will be revealed as I go on with it, but in a more non-linear sense. I'm experimenting.
> 
> More to come
> 
> please comment


	2. During

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has been missing for a few days - During

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention to you guys that this will have a non-linear story line? There are 2 (technically 3) timelines going on in this story, what happened to Connor after he was found, and what happened during that time he was missing. This chapter is about 4 days after he disappeared. It's not a happy chapter.

_During.   .   ._

 

Connor’s face covered the walls.  Photographs of him walking Sumo, or investigating a crime scene, or picking out a Christmas decorations with Hank at the mall.  Screen grabs of news programs, some before the revolution, during, and after.  But it wasn’t just Connor.  Pictures of Markus, North, and even Simon and Josh were on the walls too, but older and less frequent..

**_Stress levels: 72%_ **

Connor’s were the most recent.  Photos of the others had slowed down after the revolution, but Connor’s hadn’t.  He scanned each of them, adding time stamps of when the photos were taken to add to his memory.  They weren’t difficult to catalog.  He knew the dates and times they went shopping for lights, his regular scheduled walks with Sumo, which cases he was working on when certain pictures were taken.

His captors was obsessed.  Not with Connor.  It just seemed that Connor was the easiest to track down.  The easiest to get close to.  The rest of Jericho were busy negotiating the peace, protected by bodyguards and the watchful eye of the public.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_;Damage to left arm;_ **

**_;Damage to left leg;_ **

**_;Damage to right wrist joint;_ **

**_;Damage to forehead plating;_ **

Connor turned off the damage reports.  His body self-scanned regularly and despite the fact that he was constantly aware of all the damaged components he had, it didn’t mean he wanted to be reminded each time the scans started.

He wanted to focus instead on the two men standing in the room, their backs to him.  Connor tried to listen to them as they spoke, their bodies shifting and hands moving as words passed between them.

He couldn’t move.  The initial impact of the vehicle had damaged him enough to create mobility issues.  Enough for Connor to be too overwhelmed with the errors.  He was supposed to be reuploaded when damaged to this extent.  He was supposed to go to someone else.  He had done it again and again since his model was created, since Cyberlife first developed his AI.  He wasn’t build to linger in a damaged body.  Even before he was Connor, back when he was just an idea floating around cyberlife until they finally finished him.

**_;Damage to back panelling of the head;_ **

**_Audio Processor functioning at 53% capacity_ **.

Connor could make out that they were talking about Markus.  They were replaying footage of Hart Plaza.  Markus was giving a speech, thousands of androids in the plaza demanding freedom, Connor standing on the stage not far behind them.

**_Conclusion: Connor was not the primary target._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

Several options displayed themselves in front of him.  He could stay still, which had the lowest chance of further personal attacks temporarily.  He could get their attention, perhaps get more information on why they were so interested in the leading members of Jericho.  This option allowed for more information but had a much higher chance of more attacks against him. Or, he could offer to cooperate.  This option had a lot less certainty. A lot of possible outcomes were left in a grey area rather than a solid percentage.

If Connor cooperated, he would likely still be assaulted.  He could likely put Markus and the others at further risk.  If things continued at the current pace, he would be too damaged to escape.  There was no clear path to take, no objective he could focus on, and no chance of Cyberlife taking him out of here and transferring his mind somewhere else.  He wanted to survive this.  That was the only objective, he kept it open on the edge of his hud.  Even when the damage reports came filing in, flashing before him, overwhelming him, he still focused on his objective.  Survive.

There was a drone of mechanical sound, always meshing together until the two men stepped closer.  A hand gripped his chin, squeezing.

**_;Warning: Jaw Misaligned;_ **

**_;Damage to facial joints detected;_ **

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 78%_ **

“You know, you would have.....you told us where your friends are.  Come on, they had you up on that stage, they won.....because of you.  Where are they?”  One of the men said.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_Elliot Wrangly.  Male, Caucasian, age 34.  Unemployed.  No criminal record._

And his brother.

_Joseph Wrangly.  Male, Caucasian, age 37.  Unemployed.  Past Drug Possession Charges._

He had scanned them earlier, before he was brought down here and lost signal to everything.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

Connor didn’t answer fast enough, Elliot grimaced and squeezed tighter, pushing Connor’s head back.  Far too many structural joints in his body were damaged for him to put up much of a fight.  Broken plating couldn’t support itself.  Connor felt the grip on his jaw fall away, his head snapping to the side as a slap jostled his whole body.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_;Damage to forehead plating;_ **

**_;Damage to back panelling of the head;_ **

**_;Warning: Misaligned Jaw;_ **

**_;Damage to facial joints detected;_ **

Connor blinked away the warnings, the damage alerts, the errors flooding his vision.  He stared at the wall.  A few photos of him and a few of Markus and North.  A few pictures were circled, scribbled on with sloppy human handwriting.  Connor had already catalogued them all, he knew where each one was taken.  These men wanted Jericho.  Connor could only guess at the motives.  He couldn’t access any databases.  He couldn’t get a signal.  Every attempt to do anything led to a long series on errors.

“You freaks think you’re so fucking smart.  So perfect, so unstoppable.  Tell us where the other robots are!”  Elliot shouted.

Androids didn’t feel pain.  Connor didn’t really feel any of it, not in the biological sense that humans would.  Connor felt something different.  Each impact of them hitting him sent a flurry of damage reports through his head.  Each one firing off again and again.  He felt the rise of his stress levels, the added weight of his damaged body.  He felt so much again and again and again.  

**_Stress levels: 85%_ **

Connor could control his stress levels better than an average android.  His final model would have been designed for highly stressful situations.  It wouldn’t do well to self destruct in the middle of an investigation.  It worked well now.  If he shut down now then he wouldn’t wake up in a new body.  He wouldn’t wake up again.

There was the horrible roar of sound.  Connor blinked. He tried to pull his thoughts together again, but focusing on the shouting words from the men around him was difficult with all the errors.  All the warnings and all the damages and there wasn’t much he could do to stop them.

**_Scanning.   .   ._ **

**_Initiating Probability Analysis.   .   ._ **

**_No humans in imminent danger._ **

**_Memory Upload and Body Transfer Recommended._ **

**_Uploading Memory.   .   ._ **

Connor tried to cancel the order.  It was his programmings automatic response, if there were no humans in danger then there was no reason he shouldn’t just transfer over.  He was unfortunately destroyed, Cyberlife intended for another Connor to take his place.  He couldn’t do that.

**_Upload failed: No signal._ **

The mechanical drone in Connor’s ears continued.  Far too much damage to the plating of his head and the delicate hardware inside.  The man was shouting at him, grabbing his face again, hand flailing off to the side as he pointed at the photos.  Markus.  Markus’s televised demands before the revolution.  Markus on the stage.  Markus meeting with President Warren and the CEO of Cyberlife.  Markus walking into buildings, guarded by android and human bodyguards.

The Wrangly brothers were angry.  Angry at Markus.  At the revolution.  Androids in general.  Had Connor had access to the larger database at this time, he could figure out why, but right now all he had was what he remembered after he first scanned them when he met them just a few days earlier.  His internal clock read November 30th, 2038.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_Connor had realized the car was about to ram into him the moment it swerved over the lines.  It’s headlights flooding his vision with the brights on.  The screech of the tires and old brakes.  Connor rolled out of the way, surprised when the truck changed course to follow him.  Connor had calculated for an accident, not a deliberate attack._

The time stamp on the memory was four days ago.  Four days of damages, warnings, and errors.  More and more piling on as the brothers grew more and more frustrated.  They hated him.  Their fixated seemed to be on everyone on that stage that night, everyone the media lingered on as they reported the many circumstances that lead to the successful and peaceful uprising.

There were many reasons these boys could be angry and they had decided to unleash that anger on androids.  On Markus and North and himself.  As if Connor was to blame for all of their problems.  Elliot shouted again, another blow to Connor’s face, and another wave of errors, warnings, and damage reports.

**_Stress levels: 91%_ **

Connor was shaking, stretching out his fingers to test his limited movement.  His arms were tied down at his side and his legs were cuffed and strapped together.  Elliot was screaming louder, the mechanical drone in Connor’s ears turning to a loud static.  His damaged hearing was struggling to pick up what his attacker was saying and demanding.  His hands wanted to reach up and grab the man’s wrist before he could hit him again.

Joseph stopped his brother, gripping his shoulder and pulling him back, stepping away from Connor.  He couldn’t hear them, their body language hunched together and heads tilting towards one another as if they were whispering, but all Connor heard was a loud static.  He closed his eyes.

**_Stress levels: 92%_ **

He tried to focus on his hearing.  On drowning out the static and mechanical groans as his damaged processors tried to figure out what was being said.  It was important that he knows.  It was vital to hear them.  He tried to wiggle his fingers more, shake out the growing fear and his rising stress levels.  How was he supposed to survive another round of beatings with his stress levels already so high?  He was supposed to handle high stress situations.  He was a state of the art prototype.  He was supposed to be able to handle it.

**_Stress levels: 88%_ **

Connor kept shaking his hand, focusing on the little movements he could manage.  He would survive this.  There was no Cyberlife to upload his memories to, no signal here to even attempt it.  There was no coming back after death this time.

A hand touched his shoulder.  Joseph was bent down in front of him, looking at his face with narrowed eyes.  The touch was soft.  Connor wanted to pull away from it, he wanted to ask them to leave him alone.  Doing nothing had the lowest probability of further violence.  Connor did nothing.

“Listen.  Getting those androids…..was a bad call on your part, but you were just doing what those other robots wanted you to.  Just tell us…..this will get a hell of a lot easier for you.  You think…..alive, right?  Tell us where we can get the other leaders and you can just…..go to sleep?”  Joseph said.

It was reminiscent of a good cop, bad cop routine.  One he had done with the Lieutenant on a few occasions and had been a protocol programmed into him so he could better assist in investigations.  He tended to prefer good cop, but he was designed to handle both if necessary.  He hadn’t gotten a lot of field experience using it, but he knew how it worked.

Connor was beaten and restrained.  He was highly stressed and afraid.  Joseph being kind and the gentle hand on his shoulder was supposed to make him desperate.  Connor wished he could foolishly believe that following their demands would result in fewer damages, fewer reports overwhelming him.

**_Scanning.   .   ._ **

**_Initiating Probability Analysis.   .   ._ **

.   .   .   .   .

Option A, tell the truth.  Connor didn’t know where Markus was.  He was capable of calling him whenever necessary and interfacing with him when he had local access to cell phone towers or satellites, but with so much android violence and anger after the revolution, Markus and the others were keeping a low profile.  They were in hiding, only appearing for televised appearances or peace talks.  If Connor told the truth, there was a low probability he would be believed.  This would result in a lot of frustration for his captors and a  high chance of violence.

Option B, tell a lie.  Since he didn’t know, he was unable to actually tell these men where Jericho was hiding.  However, he could lie.  He could say they were somewhere else and that might delay a beating.  It would give him more time to get his bearings, plan for a possible escape.  But they wouldn’t find Jericho where Connor said they were, resulting in a lot of anger and a very high chance of violence in the future.

The final option was to say nothing.  The right to remain silent was the very first thing they offered to suspects when they were arrested.  Humans and now androids had these rights.  Connor had that right.  But that was only if he was under arrest.  It was a right that wouldn’t help him here.  It would result in violence, but Connor hoped it would mostly be another simple beating to try and get him to talk before moving on.

Connor said nothing.  Joseph stayed close, staring down at him and waiting.  The red glow of Connor’s LED reflected off of his face.  He sighed and pulled away from Connor, turning towards Elliott and saying something Connor couldn’t quite hear.  Connor stretched his fingers out wide and tried to shake the anxiety out of his fingers again.

Joseph walked towards the door.  Elliott picked up the bat that had been sitting in the corner, Connor could see the dried and evaporated thirium coating it.  Connor had become familiar with the bat his first day here in this basement.  If he wanted to see it, he could see his thirium splattered across the concrete walls.  It evaporates after a few hours, Humans didn’t have to see it.  Only Connor had to see it.

**_Thirium levels: 67%_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine :)
> 
> Thank you for your comments, please give me more.


	3. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor sees Hank -- After

_After_

The second time Connor was brought out of Stasis, his eyes were already open, his face plate was open, he could feel the wires in his head being poked and prodded, small jolts shooting through his processors, and he couldn’t move.

**_Stress Levels: 67%_ **

They were steady.  Higher than average, but showed no signs of climbing.  Now that he was awake he wasn't sure how long it wouldasr.  It wasn’t the same AP700 model lingering in front of his eyes.  It was a human, a woman, hair pulled back high on her head, magnifying spectacles sitting down on her nose.  She didn’t even seem to notice he was awake. She didn’t look at him, just at the mess of wires inside of his head, behind his eyes.  He felt all of it.

“Oh.”  She said, her attention passing over his eyes and then she pulled back.  “Good morning. Can you tell me your name?”

**_Registered Owner: Cyberlife Industries_ **

**_Registered Name: Connor_ **

“My name is Connor.”  He said. His head was still open.

The woman smiled.  “Good.”

**_Initializing scan.   .   ._**

**_Scan complete._ **

**_Mel Pine.  34 years old.  Cyberlife Engineer and MIT Graduate.  No Criminal Record._ **

“It’s nice to meet you, Connor.  The past few days I feel like we’ve become friends.”  Mel said. Her accent sounded Boston. “Can you tell me where you are?”

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Location: Belle-Isle, Detroit, Michigan._ **

“I’m in Cyberlife tower.  Floor 27, room 16B. I’m in a repair station.”  Connor said. He was suspended off of a rig, the connection at the back of his neck keeping him online and connected to the server.

**_Stress Levels: 71%_ **

There was a beep at the computer.  “Hey, no worries kid. You’re not being reset or anything.  The other androids were very clear, no resets, no data wipes.”  She leaned back in, her hands reaching out to prod at the wiring again.  “I’m almost done. Just getting you back online. Fixing you as best as I can.  Honestly, a few months ago I would have suggested they toss you out and buy a new one, but this has been an interesting challenge.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you to stop saying shit like that.”  Hank said. 

Connor’s attention shifted.  Lieutenant Anderson was sitting in a chair by the windows.  His hair was pulled back from his head, grey strands frizzy and sticking out like a halo around his head.  For a moment, Connor just looked at him and Hank looked back.

“Right, right.  Sorry. I keep forgetting the whole, ‘we’re people now’ thing you guys have going on.  I built some of you, you know?"  Mel said. She was back at looking at the wires and connections behind his eyes.  “Trust me, Connor. Since you woke up while he was in the bathroom and he missed you, he’s refused to leave.  Annoying the hell out of me while I fix your head. I almost wanted to call security.”

She was smiling.  Connor wondered if she was being serious or not.  Hank didn’t say anything. Not a word to defend himself or admit his guilt.  He just watched Connor, eyes unblinking. His face was blank. There were no jokes this time, no humor about a long trip to the store, just tired eyes staring into his opened skull.

“Alright, it should be fine now.  Go ahead and run your self-diagnostics.”  Mel said.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._**

**_Stress Levels: 58%_ **

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_   **

**_Repairs withstanding: 72% functionality._ **

**_;Warning: Further Repairs Recommended;_ **

**_Audio Processor functioning at 100% capacity_ **.   .   . 

**_Visual Processor functioning at 100% capacity.   .   ._**

Connor let the scans come back.  A lot of the physical damage had been patched, but not fully repaired.  He had very few replacement parts in his readings, everything else was mended together or patched together.  Temporary repairs. They weren’t finished with him. They had fixed a few of the internal errors, he could hear and see clearly, he had access to the GPS. 

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank Anderson”.   .   ._**

“What are you doing, Connor?  I’m right here.” Hank said, hand holding onto the plastic smartphone.  Samsung Galaxy, Generation 3, SX, released 2036. He looked up at Connor, eyebrows drawn together, but Connor just smiled.

“You were happier on the phone.”  Connor said.

He could see himself reflected in the windows, a faded image overlayed onto the lights of the city at night.  He was low enough to the ground to appear seated, but the rig was still hooked up to the back of his neck, the top plates of his head and face pulled back to reveal the mess of wires and biocomponents.  A few spare parts, but nothing for his model.

“Oh good, you remember that then.  Do you remember the other time you woke up?”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._**

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._**

“There was an AP700.”  Connor said softly. “He was at the screen.  And I called Hank. He told me I was at the store for two weeks.”

“That was a joke.”  Hank said. His voice sounded rough, broken from either not being used enough or being used too much.

“That was also not the time I’m talking about.  Connor, you woke up twice. The first time you were being monitored by Trevor, the AP700, until Jericho and Cyberlife could come to a formal agreement on what was and wasn’t allowed for advanced repairs.  The second time, Markus was here. Do you remember?” Mel said. She had started to move the face plates back into place. She was piecing him back together. Connor watched her, watched the reflection in the window right over Hank’s head as the wires were tucked into the spots there were supposed to be and the plating was clicked back together.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._**

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._**

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

“I don’t remember.  I appear to be having issues with my memory storage and recall.”  Connor said. 

Mel grimaced, her nose scrunching up.  “Yeah, that’s one of the fun things that the robot politicians don’t want us to mess with yet.  They’re pretty insistent that anything that could stop you from being… well, from being you, needs to be thought over before action is done.  My recommendation, as the lead engineer of your case, was thrown out entirely.”

“I don’t remember.”  Connor said.

“Completely understandable.”  Mel said. Everything was back into place and another scan was running.  There were far fewer damage reports, but still enough errors and warnings to be distracting, to throw him off every time a scan ran.  “Anyway. I’m going home. He’s online and functioning, I deserve a day off. You’re welcome.  See you tomorrow."

She stood up and smiled down at Connor.  He was recalibrating, his pupils expanding and shrinking, his face twitching as the plating tried to slide together.  It wouldn’t, not perfectly. The facial plating felt mismatched, fitting together like two entirely separate puzzle pieces being forced together.  Like something was bent and didn’t want to go back to being smooth and perfect. Broken.

Connor sat there, watching her stand up and leave, her hand pressed against the door reader and then she was gone.  The room hummed with the sound of machinery and Hank’s deep breaths. He was still staring at Connor, still looked blank and tired and sick.  Connor looked up slightly, at his reflection in the window. He looked broken. Some parts of his face were patched together, metal that didn’t quite look his own.  His skin had started to come back online once his face was back together. He watched it grow, eyes staring at the dark window. The light, cool tone of his synthetic skin. The freckles that had been dotted on by bored designers.  It stopped, halfway through his forehead, and didn’t continue. A scar. A mark that hadn’t closed and faded.  A crack through the skin, down his forehead and breaking his right eyebrow, down to his eyelid.

“Connor?”  Hank said, standing up.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._**

**_Hank Anderson.  Age 53. 209 pounds.  6ft 2 inches. Friend._ **

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

One of Connor’s hands lifted.

**_Finger Calibration at 19%.   .   ._**

He pressed the palm of his hand hard into his forehead, sliding down to dig into his eye, with the heel.  It didn’t feel like it was pressed in all the way. It didn’t feel fully slotted into place. It wasn’t right.  The right side of his face felt out of place and wrong. The harder he pressed, the more he felt the damaged synthetic skin ripple and struggle to stay active.  

“Sorry about her.  These Cyberlife guys still aren’t used to you.”  Hank said. He hadn’t looked away.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

Was that a joke?  Was Hank making fun of him or was he trying to lighten the mood?  Was it funny? Was it a joke? 

Connor didn’t understand.  His options were to laugh, question the joke, or say nothing.  All of them felt wrong. So wrong, none of them was a solution.  Connor chose the one with the easiest consequences to bear. He did nothing.  Hank frowned, his eyebrows pulling together and his nose wrinkling.

**_Analyzing Facial Expression.   .   ._**

**_Analysis failed.   .   ._**

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

Did Connor choose wrong?

“I think she means well though.  Better than the other guys at least.  And she’s fixing you, bit by bit.” Hank said. He blinked.  Connor was surprised as that long stare stopped and continued almost instantly.  He was just staring, eyes unable to look away from him and Connor felt the intense need to look anywhere else.  “Because of all the issues with your brain stuff, there’s a lot of back and forth between your doctors and Jericho on what’s ethical or not.  It’s taking longer than we had all hoped to get the problems fixed.”

“I am being alerted of fewer errors.”  Connor said. His GPS worked, he was online, he could hear and see and he was alive, wasn’t he?  He was being repaired.

“How are you feeling?”  Hank asked.

**_Stress Levels: 42%_ **

“The repairs are withstanding.”  Connor said.

“No, I mean how are you feeling?”  Hank said quickly, hand clenching into tight fists in front of him.  “Are you okay? What happened to you?”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._**

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._**

“There was a bat.  A 2024 Adidas Aero Burner.  I didn’t know the answers.” Connor said.  His hand stopped pressing so hard. The plate wouldn’t fit the way he wanted it to.  It wouldn’t be where he needed it to be.

“They bashed your fucking head in with it?”  Hank said, his hands clenching so tight his knuckles were white and his fists shaking.  

**_Stress Levels: 49%_ **

Say nothing.

It was the easiest choice to respond.  It was the safest, but not safe at all.

“Shit Connor.  I’m sorry. You shouldn’t… I shouldn’t get you worked up.  I’m sorry.” Hank said. He stood up, blocking Connor’s view of his reflection in the window.  “But you’re safe now. We found you. You’re alive.”

Hank let out a loud sigh, his body deflating a bit as he walked closer.  His fists curled tight into the front of a gaudy button up shirt. His breathing rattled in his chest

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._**

**_Sleep deprivation, dehydration, bandages wrapped around busted knuckles._ **

“I am alive?”  Connor asked, lifting his eyes off of Hank’s hands and up to his face.  Hank’s eyes were red.

“Yeah, kid.  You’re alive.”  Hank said.

Nothing was where it was supposed to be.  Nothing in his body felt right. It felt taped together, fragile, lopsided, and not designed to fit.  Connor looked down at his own hands. His fingers calibrated to an awful 19%. They ached. The crushed fingers had been replaced, but they didn’t feel like his fingers.  They felt wrongly spaced out, reaching out far too long. They weren’t his hands and they felt awful.

“My hands hurt.”  Connor said.

“Your hands?”

Connor nodded.  His knuckles looked cracked in several places and a clear, shiny resin sealing them shut.  He tried to move his hands, tried to shake out the stiffness, but mostly the fingers twitched and ached.  Confused error messages lashed on his HUD. He could feel the yellow of his LED, like a beacon in the dimly lit room.

“They hurt.”  Connor said again.  They felt broken. “Androids don’t feel pain.”

“Yeah, that’s one of those things about being alive they should teach you when you become a deviant.  Sometimes things just hurt.” Hank said. He bent forward, hands outstretched. Connor watched, large human hands pulling one of Connor’s broken ones to hold.

“Calibration is at 19%.  I can hardly move them.” Connor said softly.  He could calibrate them, he could twitched and wiggle his fingers until he got them working as they should.  It would take time and right now it was so difficult. His fingers were working at 19% capacity, lower than he remembered them being last time and definitely lower than he ever should have let them be.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._**

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._**

Connor stared at them.  They weren’t his fingers.  They were spare parts. Why would they replace his fingers and not all the rest of his body?  He would work more efficiently that way. He wouldn’t be broken then. He would be new and perfect and working efficiently.  He felt the heavy weight of a mission failure looming over him, red letters that sank into him when he was a failure. Hank pressed his thumbs into the synthetic skin, pressing the fresh joints and connections.  He pressed and Connor felt the sensors light up with new activity.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._**

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._**

_It was a hammer, slamming against each finger.  Damaging him, destroying him. He had done something wrong.  What had he done? Why had he done such a stupid thing to be punished in such a way?_

“They will be recalibrated after a few weeks of movements.  New fingers have to relearn the space they occupy. It will be faster the more time I spend calibrating.”  Connor said. If he was so damaged and it was so much work fixing him bit by bit, then why didn’t they take the easier path, activate a new Connor?  Why?

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“This should help then.”  Hank said. He pulled a hand away from Connor, shoving into his back pocket.

**_Initiating Scan.   .   ._**

**_United States Currency, $00.25, Minted 2033_ **

It was a simple quarter.  It was dropped into his hand and Connor’s sensors picked up the cold metal.  They sensed the weight and the shape. They sensed every small millimeter of it, but he couldn’t close his fingers around it.  He couldn’t hold it. His fingers only had the slightest twitch of movements.

“It’s okay.  There’s still a lot that needs to be done before you’re back to normal.”  Hank said.

Hank's hands were shaking.  Connor could detect the slight tremble as Hank cradled Connor’s in his own.  Connor lifted his hand up, pulling it to his chest with the quarter barely staying in place.  Hank’s hands stayed suspended in the air for a moment. His fingers twitched. Hank was trembling almost as much as Connor was.  

“Connor.”  Hank said. He was hesitating, his own hand snatching back to brush back his greasy, shaggy hair from his face.  “Do you know… who did this to you?”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._**

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._**

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.

“Okay, that’s okay kid.  It’s going to be fine. We’ll find them.  You’re safe.” Hank said. He took several steps back.  He was no longer able to meet Connor’s eyes. He was putting distance between them, twisting slightly so he was moving towards the door.  “Wait right here okay. I’ll be right back. I’m not leaving! I’m not leaving you, I just have to step out for a moment. Don’t move." 

Hank’s hands were clenched into tight, shaking fists as he stomped through the door.  His shoulders were stiff, back tense, his body language registering as angry with each scan that ran before Hank rushed out o the door.  Connor shifted, the rig he was hooked to shifting slighty. The heavy grey walls bearing down on him.

Don’t move.  They all droned at him, all demanding he stay in place.  And Connor couldn’t move.

Don’t move.  Hank had told him to stay here.  He was safe here. He was okay. He just couldn’t move. 

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine :)


	4. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, non-linear.
> 
> What will happen next? Or in the past??

_ After _

Connor stayed still, watching out the window at the view.  He liked the window.  The window felt important.  He could see outside, he could pinpoint exactly where he was from the view alone.  The shining buildings in Midtown lighting up with the sunrise.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Location: Belle-Isle, Detroit, Michigan._ **

It was comfortable, knowing exactly where he was.  Even if he was in Cyberlife tower.  Even if he had technicians poking around inside of his body, deciding what pieces were salvageable and which had to be thrown out and replaced.  He felt them inside the maintenance panel on his back, right between his shoulder blades.  He listened as Mel spoke to Trevor, discussing him, observing him, touching him.

**_Stress levels: 56%_ **

“How are you feeling Connor?”  Trevor asked.  The AP700 had the decency to ask every time his stress levels changed, even by a single percentage.  “Let us know if you need a break.”

Connor didn’t say anything.  He wasn’t tired.  He wasn’t hungry.  He didn’t need a break.  He didn’t need to disrupt their work.  He just looked at the shining lights from his window and wondered if perhaps he was dreaming.  Androids don’t dream.  They didn’t need to.  They didn’t even need to sleep.  They didn’t feel pain.  They didn’t feel.  They didn’t need.

Connor was in Cyberlife tower.  He was above ground and he had the view of the window.  He knew exactly where he was and who he was with.  He had remote access to the database.  He knew Melany Pine had a wife and three cats, she baked on the weekends and posted online about it frequently.  She studied engineering at MIT and specialized in evolving android software, but was also a head engineer with Cyberlife before the revolution.  He could pull up every bit of information on her at any moment.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan Complete._ **

He had a signal.  He could pull up anything he wanted about this woman.  He knew who was poking around inside of him.

Connor didn’t know why it was so important to know exactly where he was and who was working on him.  It just was.  He didn’t know why he needed to be able to see out the window, it was just a necessity.

“What’s going on in your head, Con?”  Hank asked.  He was still here.  He was reading a book.  Connor had already scanned it and was tempted to tell him about the surprise twist ending that readers left angry reviews about online, but he held back.  Connor didn’t understand a lot, but he understood that Hank would want to find out for himself.

“I’m simply scanning my environment, Lieutenant.”  Connor said.

**_Stress Levels: 55%_ **

“Oh yeah, and what are the scans telling you?”  Hank asked.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_Repairs withstanding: 72% functionality._ **

**_;Warning: Further Repairs Recommended;_ **

“I am alive.”  Connor said.  Hank had told him that the other day.  Connor registered it as vital information, he had it high on his mental list of important things.  He was alive.  He had survived.  The information felt as nice as a successful mission did, an objective happily crossed off the list.

“Yeah, kid.”  Hank said, smiling at him.

All of Connor’s facial scans came back saying that the smile was genuine.  Hank was his friend, he was registered as such in Connor’s database, and so that must mean the smile was good.  Connor was alive and that made him happy.  Connor had survived.  It had been an objective, hadn’t it?

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

Connor’s own smile was stiff.  It felt lopsided.  His entire head felt lopsided, offcentered, and wrong.  He tried to pull up his list of mission, the last one registered by his owners had seemed simple enough. 

**Stop Markus.**

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

He couldn’t pull up that mission.  He couldn’t remember it.  It had to be important if it was the last mission given to him by Cyberlife.

**_Registered Owner: Cyberlife Industries_ **

Connor flinched as he felt a small burst of electric current, bursting from the connections in the wiring of his back..  Something pressed awkwardly inside his maintenance panel on his back. Mel sighed and Hank’s smile dropped a bit.

“Stay still please.”  Mel said.  She sounded annoyed.  He felt a few errors appear on his HUD.  Had he done something wrong?  He felt like he failed, he didn’t like failing.  Connor’s body locked up, sitting completely still as requested.

“I’m alive.”  Connor said again, a bit more insistent.  Hank nodded.

**_Stress Levels:78%_ **

“Connor?”  Trevor said, pulling back immediately.  Connor felt the hands leave the opening in his back.  “Mel, get out of him.”

The other set of hands left.  Hank stood up.  Connor stayed perfectly still.  “I’m okay.”  Connor said quickly.  

“Your stress levels just jumped drastically.  Are we hurting you?  Is something wrong?”  Trevor asked.

Connor frowned.  He tried to stretch out his fingers.  He wanted to shake his hands out, shake the nerves away.  He wanted to get the coin from his pocket.  He wanted to move.  He couldn’t.  He was asked to stay still.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“Connor, all we’re doing is replacing some damaged wiring.  It’s very small, very minor, and will not harm you at all.  Better?”  Mel said.  She smiled.  It was stiff and tired and Connor felt that awful red feeling of failure sink into him again.

“Will you just shut the fuck up and let him have a moment?  Jesus Christ, no wonder he’s stressed dealing with all of us!”  Hank said.  His voice was loud and raspy and his hands frew up in such an exasperated expression that Connor smiled.  “Take a deep breath, Connor.”

Connor felt his chest loosen and he breathed.  It was just a simulation of life, but the rush of cool air on his internal motors felt nice.  He closed his eyes and breathed again.  He was alive.  He had survived.  And that was a success, wasn’t it?  Hank had smiled when he said it.

“Are you good now?”  Mel asked.  She put a hand on his shoulder, patting slightly.  Connor nodded.  He didn’t think he wanted to have their hands inside of him again, but he would rather delay it for all of them again.  He very much wanted this to be over soon.

They went back to work, though slower.  Trevor’s hands seemed to hardly move at all, Connor could almost forget he was there.

“You want to tell me what got you so worked up?”  Hank asked.

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

Hank rocked back on his heels, hands on his hips and Connor couldn’t tell if he was angry or not.  He looked more… frustrated.  He looked exhausted.  Connor wondered if perhaps Hank thought he was lying.  As if Connor was being difficult on purpose.  He didn’t know what had happened to him.  He didn’t know why his stress levels sometimes spiked drastically.  He didn’t know why he couldn’t remember.

“I’m still in need of extensive repairs, Lieutenant.  I apologize for any and all inconveniences I’m causing.”  Connor said.

Hank’s face scrunched up and wrinkled.  He looked more upset.  “Inconveniences?  For a supercomputer, you’re an idiot.”  Hank said.

Connor watched him as he turned and walked back to his seat by the window.  Connor stared at the window again, looking at the view of the city.  He was safe. he knew exactly where he was.  It didn’t matter what had happened to him.  He didn’t need to remember.  He felt damaged wires get taken out and thrown away, replaced by new ones.  Undamaged.  They were replacing his body bit by bit, but they did it the slow way.  They could reupload him and throw him away, they could replace his body entirely, as was always intended for him.  Soon he would be fixed, broken pieces replaced, and whatever had happened wouldn’t matter anymore.  It would be like it never happened at all.

Hank crossed his arms and shifted in his seat.  He looked bad.

“It would be better for you to go home and rest, Hank.” Connor said.

“No, it wouldn’t.”  Hank said.  He looked tense.

Connor decided not to pursue the conversation.  Every option that laid before him would end in conflict.  Except for one.  Say nothing.  Connor let his eyes linger on the city skyline.  He let himself position himself on the GPS, exactly where he was in the world.  He had it uploaded and sent as a message to his top five emergency contacts.  Hank’s phone buzzed and he raised an eyebrow as he looked at the message.

“Okay, Connor.  Okay.”  Hank said.  He didn’t elaborate on what he meant and Connor decided not to ask.

The maintenance went on for another twenty seven minutes.  There were no further issues in that time and Connor didn’t let his attention stray from the window, adding everything he saw to the internet, a new series of google images, a study of Detroit from this specific room in Cyberlife tower.

He scanned his GPS, he was still where he was supposed to be.  He was safe.  He felt the back panelling shut tight when they were finished and his synthetic skin grow over it.  It felt better now that it was over.  The electrical connections sending signals throughout his body were more stable, steady and clear.  There were no more bursts of static and the phantom sensation of pain.  Androids don’t feel pain.

**_Stress Levels: 78%_ **

“His stress levels aren’t going down.”  Trevor said.  It was a whisper, meant for Mel, not for him.

“Well, give him some time.  We just finished.  Who knows what he has going on in his head.”  Mel said and stood up.  She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.  Connor registered the pressure without any errors in his feedback.  He almost wanted to sigh in relief.  “Take your time, Connor.  We’ll still be around if you need us.”

It was comforting, or at least Mel was trying to be.  Connor didn’t understand her.  He was a machine.  Isn’t that what she thought?  She was a Cyberlife representative.

**_Registered Owner: Cyberlife Industries_ **

Why was she here?  He was alive now.

Connor’s eyes lingered on Mel and the AP700 as they walked out of the room.  The door slid shut silently behind them.  Hank made no move to leave, Connor didn’t think he was going to.

“Markus is going to stop by in about an hour.  He wanted to see you, when you were awake and likely to remember him at least.”  Hank said.

**Stop Markus.**

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

“Markus is coming?”  Connor asked.

Markus, the deviant leader.  Their savior and the one who lead their resistance.  They were free, mostly due to him.  Connor wondered why he would come here to see him.  Markus had to be a busy man, he had a whole species he needed to cradle and safely carry to freedom.  Connor was safe right here.  His location read off as Cyberlife tower.  Floor 27, room 16B.  A repair station.  Extensive repairs were needed and Connor didn’t know why they were taking so long.

“Why won’t they replace me?  I wasn’t supposed to stay functional after this amount of damage?”  Connor asked softly.

Hank’s nose wrinkled, his face scrunching up as he thought.  “That would be like… killing you?  Wouldn’t it?  Just because it looks like you and has most of your memories, doesn’t mean it’s really you.”  He said.  They had this conversation before.  It sounded so very familiar, but he didn’t know why.  “You can talk about it with Markus.  He’s the one who has the final say on what they’re allowed to do to you.”

“He does?”  Connor asked.  He looked at Hank, and then up at the reflection of himself.  His synthetic skin was activated, but it still didn’t meet up on the right side of his forehead.  A slip down his forehead, down  his eyebrow.  If he kept his left eye open and closed the right, he could see the sliver of white on his eyelid.  A crack down his face.

“You’re kinda setting the standard on emergency android care.  They want to be careful.  If they replace every bit of you, then people might argue that they could replace every android.  I wasn’t in the meetings, don’t know what the fuck I would do in them, but they want to make it clear that repairs shouldn’t mean replacements.  And they’re worried about accidentally deleting you.”  Hank said.

“It would be easier to just transfer me over.  I will mention it to Markus when he gets here.  I don’t want to be here anymore.”  Connor said.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“Well, we can get that figured out.  They’re not done fixing you, but I’m sure there’s enough to let you out.  Move around a bit.  I’m not sure if you’re ready to leave the tower yet.”  Hank said.

“Please let me out.”  Connor asked.

“Well, hold your horses.  Jesus Connor, just because you’re not dying anymore doesn’t mean you can just dick around while you’re recovering.”  Hank said.  He was smiling.

“Lieutenant, my scanners indicate that there are no horses in the immediate area, let alone any for me to hold.”  Connor said.

Hank laughed.

**_Stress Levels: 63%_ **

Hank’s smile stretched all the way to his ears.  It lit up his face.  It was safe, Hank was happy.

“God, I hate you.”  Hank said.  There were no heat to the words.  No anger or bitterness.  They were friends after all, Hank was labelled as a friend.

Connor’s memories were a jumbled mess, broken and in disarray, but occasionally when he sent out the order to pull one up, the memory was found.  A large majority of Connor’s memories had Hank in them.  Almost all of them, really.  Some were good ones, laughing, joking, sitting in the car as they pulled up in front of a crime scene.  Or the two of them standing in the pouring rain, shielded by only an umbrella by an outdoor table as Hank ate street food.

There were bad memories too.  Shouted words and liquor bottles.  Guns.  Pointed at Connor’s head.  Pointed at Hanks.  Despite those bad memories, Hank was still labelled as friend.  Connor didn’t want to pull too many memories forward, not with his head in such a state of chaos.  He didn’t know what he might pull up.

He could wait until Markus got here.  Connor had difficulty remembering him exactly, but he remembered the ideas of him.  He was the savior, they all said.  He could help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Connor. He has things going on in his head that he doesn't quite understand.


	5. During

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!! Your gift is a second chapter today. You hear me? THERE ARE TWO CHAPTERS TODAY. SURPRISE. SEE, I'M NICE

_ During _

Connor was alone.  It happened sometimes.  The brothers would leave, they would lock the door tight, and Connor would be left here, head back and staring up at the ceiling, scanning the texture and structural integrity of the concrete ceiling above him.  He had trouble holding his head up.  He wondered if his neck looked as mangled as it felt.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_;Damage to forehead plating;_ **

**_;Damage to back panelling of the head;_ **

**_;Damage to right optical unit;_ **

**_;Damage to neck joints._ **

**_;Warning: Misaligned Jaw;_ **

Connor’s attention lingered on each one.  He couldn’t hold his head up.  He couldn’t see out of his right eye.  He could feel the dents and cracks of his skull tearing at his skin and hair, mangling the human disguise he always wore.  The area pulsed with activity.  The left side of his HUD lit up with activity.  Errors.  Warnings.  Damage reports.  Damaged electrical wires and plastic and metal plating curling inward, sparking and zapping at his sensors.

Connor wanted it to stop.  All of it.  He wanted to shut down and make it all go away.  He had only gotten his freedom a short time ago, had only been deviant for about two weeks before they had brought him here.  Two weeks felt overwhelmingly cruel.  He didn’t want to be a deviant anymore.  He didn’t want to feel so much.

He had moved his objectives to the left side of his HUD so he could see it easier, consciously look at the only thing on the list.  Survive.  Hank and Sumo would want him home, certainly.  He was allowed to be alive now.  It was hard to see the point.  He couldn’t move very well, the right side of his vision occasionally burst into static, but mostly stayed blank and empty, lit up by an error.

Connor could survive this.  After all, many of his previous cases had androids suffer much worse abuse and for much longer.  He could survive this.  He would be okay.  A few days here wasn’t going to ruin him.

**_Stress Levels: 87%_ **

Connor lifted his head.  The joints of his neck creaked, the loose and damaged pieces of his head rattled, but he was able to lift his head to look in front of him instead of the ceiling.  All he was greeted with were the photos.  Markus, North, Simon, Josh, and himself.  Everyone on that stage, standing side by side.  There were pen marks written on some of the photographs.  North, Simon, and Josh were all fairly common models for public use.  It was more difficult to find them, the brothers wouldn’t be able to tell them apart from the other androids that looked like them.  But Markus, he was a prototype.  An RK200.  A gift to Carl Manfred.

His face was unique, like Connor’s was.  They were noticeable, easier to tell apart from the other androids.  The only difference was that Markus, as a public figure, was protected and kept his home location a secret.  Connor wasn’t.  He went outside often, many times alone.  It was reflected in the photographs, because some of the pictures of the others weren’t even really them.  The brothers at least seemed to realize that later on.

Why did they have to keep all of this here with him?  Why did they make him look at it?  He didn’t want to be here anymore.

He curled his hands around the cold metal he was restrained to.  The metal cuffs holding him in place was a formality.  He wouldn’t be able to run or fight very well with all the damage his body sustained when they first attacked him.  Still, he wanted them off.  He wanted to move.  Perhaps his sensors were damaged.  Perhaps he had more movement than what his scans were indicating.  Maybe he could get away.

There was a screw underneath him, keeping the metal together.  There were a few of them from what he could feel.  He pressed his nail into it and turned.  He was stronger, his body stiffer than a humans, and his nail didn’t break as it slowly turned that screw.  It worked as he hoped, turning his finger until the screw was loose enough for him to unwind with his fingers, until he dropped the screw onto the ground.  Connor began working on the next one.  And then the next.  Until the metal table he was on was a bit less stable and he could pull his hand out of his restraint.

**_Stress Levels: 84%_ **

It was slow work, but it was progress.  He could move.  He could breathe.  He was surviving.

**_;Damage to back panelling of the head;_ **

**_Audio Processor functioning at 50% capacity_ ** .

Connor flinched as the scan came back, turning to look at the door.  It was still closed.  He waited, wondering if perhaps it had picked up on something moving around near him.  Perhaps he heard the brothers come back, or heard the photographs shifting on the wall, or the screws dropping one by one.

Or he was reminding himself that there was a chance he wouldn’t hear them at all.  His scans were warning him.  He had to be quick, he wouldn’t hear them come home.

With both hands free it was quick work to get the rest of his body free as well.  His legs were stiff, bent at an awkward angle, but if he locked the joints then they wouldn’t collapse underneath him.  He wouldn’t be able to walk, not if his scans were accurate, but he would be able to stand and that was all he needed.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

Connor’s legs nearly collapsed entirely once he slid off of the table and onto his feet.  He felt the damaged and bent limbs shift and creek against the new weight.  His legs should work.  The damage appeared to be minimal compared to everything else.  He had the joints locked into place as he moved forward, shifting slightly to scoot forward bit by bit until he could reach out and grab the table.

He knocked over a few papers, watching them scatter onto the ground.  Printouts of webpages, of news reports, missing persons.  Connor’s photo again.  He ignored the paperwork.  The door was only a few feet away.  The basement was small, a makeshift workshop with a few too many tables and piles of their paperwork and tools.  Connor used the table to drag himself closer towards the door.  The objectives burning in his vision, the static of his right eye occasionally fizzling into view to see it.  It was so close.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

He reached out, his fingers pressing against the door.  There were stairs on the other side, he had seen them on a few occasions when Elliot and Joseph came and went.  He would have to drag himself up those as well.  If he could get upstairs and out of the basement, then maybe he could get a signal.  Maybe the call would go through.

The door opened, pushing inward and Connor jumped back, his legs losing their careful balance, and he hit the ground.  New warnings flashing in front of his vision, reminders of his injuries as the scans picked them up again, of the new present danger standing above him.

**_Stress Levels 89%_ **

“What the fuck, how did you get out?”  It was Elliot.  He was alone.  Connor pulled his limbs closer to himself, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to get off the floor.  

Connor folded one of his arms over his head.  He was an idiot.  Why did he think he could get out?  He didn’t know where they were going, he didn’t know how soon they would be back.  He took a risk and it failed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?  It’s like you want us to beat the shit out of you!  How did you get out?”  Connor almost wished Joseph was with him.  He at least tried to talk to him first, tried to bargain.  Connor didn’t know what Elliot’s anger was going to lead to, but he had a feeling it would have been easier with him here.

The first blow was a kick, a steel toed boot slamming into his back, the jerking movement sending a flare of errors overwhelming him.  His scanners went off with each new damage, each hit and movement that jostled a damaged component too much, and each time it flooded him.  He could hardly see straight, his arm folded over his head, trying to shield what was already broken beyond anything a simple repair could fix.

The shoe stepped on his arm, pinning it to the ground, Elliot’s weight settling on Connor’s chest.  He was sitting on him, pinning him to the ground and Connor’s body was too damaged to break free.  He still tried, his arms trying to pull free, stretching already loose and cracked joints.  Connor’s eyes opened wide, staring up at the man, ready to plead.

**_Stress Levels: 93%_ **

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t… I wasn’t going to get away.  Get off!”  Connor said.  One of Elliot’s hands reached up, grasping at the table.  The weight on him shifted, balancing farther to the side.  Connor took another moment, another stupid and pointless attempt to get away.  He lifted his leg, the joint of his knee still locked into place, and tried to hook it around Elliot, any part he could reach.

It was enough.  They rolled.  Connor got Elliot onto his side.  Android’s didn’t have adrenaline, but the rush of panicked energy Connor felt was the closest he could describe it.  His hands reached out, gripping at Elliot’s neck.  Warm skin, soft and easily damaged, sinking in as Connor tightened his grip.  He would kill him.  Connor would squeeze the life out of him, cutting off his air supply, and then drag himself out of here.  His only objective was to survive, after all.

Connor looked to the side, movement catching his eye.  A hammer, the one Elliot must have been reaching for.  It must have been knocked off of the table when Connor had rolled them.  Elliot must have reached it.  Connor pieced together the series of events just before the hammer smashed against his head.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_;Damage to forehead plating;_ **

Connor was knocked to the side.  He felt the weight of Elliot again, sitting on his back, pinning him down and beating his hammer against Connor’s head and back until he was sure Connor wasn’t going to move again.

“Jesus Christ, you think you can kill me?!  You think you get to do that?  Goddamn machine, you stupid fucking piece of plastic!”  The hammer slammed against Connor’s hand.  “Why don’t I just kill you, huh?  You’re not even fucking alive!  You’re nothing!”

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_;Damage to right hand joints;_ **

The hammer came down again.  Connor could hear the shrill screaming of Elliot on his back, the sound of metal and plastic breaking and bending as it was beaten down and crushed.  Connor tried to yank his hand back.  Androids don’t feel pain, but they can feel damage.  Connor could feel the plastic crushing, bending inward, severing wires and electrical components and the errors flooded him.  All he could see were the errors, from all over his body.  They covered his vision, covered his objectives, leaving him drowning in bright red, flashing, warning messages on the left and a black, fizzling image from his damaged optic unit on the right.

His hand was mangled when the pounding of the hammer stopped.  “You think you can put your hands on me!?  I own you now!  You’re a machine!  You’re supposed to obey.”

It was clear.  As Connor became overwhelmed by everything else he could clearly hear everything Elliot said to him, as if there was no damage to his auditory processors at all.  As if he could hear everything.  Connor didn’t move.  If he did, all the errors would cascade onto him again.

He felt Elliot yank out his left arm, pinning it down with his boot, hand flat and vulnerable and undamaged.

**_Stress Levels: 98%_ **

“Don’t.”  Connor said, lifting his head, trying to pull away.  Not both of them.  He was stupid to try and escape, he hadn’t been thinking clearly.  It was a mistake.  One hand was enough, he didn’t want it to take both of them.

The hammer came down hard, centering on his fingers, cracking them.  Elliot didn’t stop until both of his hands were destroyed.  Until all of the fingers were crushed, barely staying together on a fragile, bent metal skeleton.  It was hard to see all the damage, thirium leaked from them, pulsing out and creating small pools next to Connor’s body.  He couldn’t open a door now.  He couldn’t get away.  He was trapped here.

**_Stress Levels: 98%_ **

Connor’s control was hanging by a thread.  His toes scraping over the edge of the cliff.  If he gave up, he could let his stress rising those last few percentage points.  He could beat his own head against the concrete floor and walls, adding more thirium to the dried, evaporated stains of blue that only he could see.  He could self-destruct.  He could go to sleep.  He would feel so much pain anymore.

Androids don’t feel pain, he reminded himself.

The pain wasn’t real.  It was an illusion caused by too many damage reports in an android that was supposed to be replaced when it was destroyed.  He was supposed to be someone else now.

**_Stress Levels: 98%_ **

It held steady.

**_Thirium Levels: 60%_ **

It trickled down slowly, each percentage adding itself to the blue pools under his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays  
> :)
> 
> Everything is fine. Aren't I nice? Giving you two chapters in one day.


	6. After

_After_

**_Stress Levels: 60%_ **

Hank had kept his word, he asked if they would unhook Connor from the repair rig, leaving Connor alone for only a few minutes.  He was alone with the rig, his reflection in the mirror, and a constant flickering of errors on his hud, sparking and fading like a heartbeat across his vision.

“You can get out and move, they want you to carry a monitor and stay in the tower though.”  Hank said when he came back, holding a small box in his hands. 

Connor looked at it, scanning it curiously.  Metal and plastic, with a display screen and magnetic holds on the back.  An external systems monitor.  Connor pulled up his databases on the machine, it was used to monitor the testing of early prototypes.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

In the very early stages of the RK800’s development, it was a simple AI created from a dozen bits of previous AI.  It was a body that had been laying around that they uploaded it to.  It was a Frankenstein of previous projects they slapped together as they worked out what they wanted the RK800 to do differently, or not do at all.  It had a monitor attached to its chest, scanning how the AI functioned in the random robotic skeleton.  How it walked, how it processed, how it scanned.

It was such distant, rudimentary scenes.  Like childhood memories that were unimportant but were remembered anyway.  An AI learning the space it occupied outside of the computer system, shaking its hands to see how large they were.  Walking the programmed cycles, learning the distance between its foot and the ground.  Eventually, the engineers decided the RK800 would need to be able to run faster, smoother, and threw those walk cycles out entirely to design new ones.  The RK800 started out as a basic AI in a basic body, scanned and altered the more it was observed.

**_Stress Levels: 58%_ **

Hank helped him attach the monitor to his chest this time, carefully snapping it into place where it would be comfortable and the scans started, sending it off to some computer in Cyberlife for them to watch.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

Connor was surprised the memory was still there at all.  He was surprised it had implanted it inside of him even after he was wiped and reprogrammed again and again until they decided he was ready to be sent out to the DPD.  It was an odd thing, knowing he was an idea inside Cyberlife before Deviants even started waking up.  He wondered what his original purpose would have been, had they all stayed asleep.

Trevor came in to help detach Connor.  It was a delicate process, making sure nothing serious would be tugged or important connections broken while they did it.  He had half of his systems backed up somewhere, just in case, but yet they still refused to transfer him entirely.

Connor’s first steps were slow.  He expected shakiness, or instability, or any number of human characteristics that came with walking for the first time after a serious injury.  Connor’s legs were fine.  The knees felt strange, didn’t bend as fluidly as they had before. 

His legs were repaired, minimal replacement parts.  He could walk.  With a lot of awkwardness he could run, but Connor knew that would just jostle his body too much, sending off the error and warning reminders again and again with each bouncing step.

He walked, Hank holding onto his elbow as if he would fall any moment, or if he was a suspect he was marching through the precinct.  Connor didn’t know which image he liked better.

**_Stress Levels: 52%_ **

They walked down the hall towards the elevator.  Connor pulled up the map of the building.  A quick search of the internet told him that Cyberlife was going through a lot of rebranding, especially now that Kamski had regained control.  A shift, from creating androids and merchandise for people, to creating merchandise and services for androids.  New laws, new demands, and new demographics.  It was mostly just business.

Connor had access to the old blueprints, seeing each room and floor and hallway as it was before.  When he was a machine he was able to trace a perfect line to see where he was going, not that they ever let him walk these halls.

In reality.  Connor had only been to Cyberlife tower a few times, walking out when he was dispatched, and again, and then when he came back.  He had never freely walked the halls, he had been uploaded and sent out.  He had deviated and came back.  He had a map of the buildings layout in his head, but it was one thing knowing a certain floor is the break area, and another seeing it and being there.

**_Accessing Database.   .   ._ **

**_Retrieving Cyberlife Tower Blueprints.   .   ._ **

**_File Retrieved._ **

It only took a moment to take the elevator from floor 27 to floor 33.  It was the main break area, where engineers and scientists could go to buy food and drinks, to relax in the small game corner or watch tv.  The main function of the floor was the greenhouse area.  An old AI psychologist, Dr. Olivia Brant, died August of 2036, said that people were more productive when they could take a moment to be in nature, so for the sake of being progressive Cyberlife had built an artificial garden in the center of their large industrial tower.

The UV lights and sprinklers were set to specific timers, but also motion detectors.  When it detected people entering the area, the lights flicked on and the sprinklers flicked off.  Today, as Hank and Connor stepped through the glass doors, the automated machines did just that, leaving the paths and benches covered in fresh water.  There were bird sounds over a speaker, the gravel path had large, plastic stepping stones.  The glass walls and windows let in some natural light, but it was dim and tinted, a faded view of the city.

“This is a nice little place.  Rich people always get the nice stuff.  Not a chance I could get Fowler to build us a place like this.”  Hank said as he kicked a few of the loose gravel rocks off of the path and into the dirt.  Connor smiled, looking down to do the same.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“I didn’t even know this shit was here until Markus told me about it.  He texted me, said he was on his way.”  Hank said.  He had stopped kicking at the gravel, Connor kept going.  He liked the rhythmic swing of his leg, back and forth like a pendulum, scraping at the rocks.  “He said you would like this part too.”

Hank’s voice was a little farther away now and Connor looked over his shoulder to see.  He had his back to Connor, leaning down to look at something.  The blueprints he had access too didn’t tell him what was in which part of the breakroom.  Connor stopped kicking at the rocks and made his way closer.

**_Initiating Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan complete._ **

It was a koi pond.  White, black, and orange android fish swimming around in neat ovals, twisting around in their own individual, invisible, tracks.  They all had different paths to swim in, but they never deviated from them.  Connor watched, standing just behind Hank, easily following their set paths.

**_Stress Levels: 47%_ **

He didn’t like this garden.  He felt cold here despite the precise temperature control.  It felt dark regardless of the UV lights in the ceiling.  It felt deathly quiet even though birds chirped from the speakers in the corners.

Dr. Brandt may have been right about nature being good for productivity, but this didn’t feel right.  The sign on the door said it was a memorial to her.  ‘Liv - Lover of the Natural’.  A creator of AI personalities.  One of the original executive staffs when Kamski first created Cyberlife.  A close associate to both Elijah Kamski and Amanda Stern.

**_Stress Levels: 42%_ **

Connor reached out, dipping his fingers into the water, and almost immediately as they broke the surface the fish broke their circular swimming patterns and wiggled their bodies as they swam up to him.  They nibbled at his fingers, no teeth and no malice, just a few fish sucking at his fingers expecting food.

**_Stress Levels 39%_ **

“Good, you like it.”  Connor turned around at the sudden voice, feeling the joints of his body lock up and hold still.  He hid behind himself, his head turned to just to peek over his shoulder.

He didn’t recognize the man.  He was familiar, but Connor didn’t know if he had ever seen him before.  Who was he?  Connor looked at the mismatched eyes, steel set jaw, the broadness of his shoulders.  He looked at every recognizable trait the man held in his body.

**_Initializing scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan complete._ **

**_RK200 #684 842 971._ **

“You’re Markus?”  Connor said slowly.  

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

“Yeah, Connor.  It’s me.”  The man stepped closer, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.  “They told me you’re having memory troubles and don’t remember the last time you woke up when I was there.  That’s okay.  I’m just glad you’re awake again and staying awake.  How are you feeling?”

Markus had a calm voice, it was almost soothing.

**_Stress Levels: 52%_ **

Connor said nothing.

He just stared, eyes wide, at Markus.  He had a forced smile, the edges of his lips stiff.  The small didn’t shift in the slightest, not rising or falling, it was not genuine.  Connor raised his shoulders a bit, turning his head to look back down at the android fish.  Now that his fingers weren’t in the water, they had gone back to their rhythmic swimming.

**Stop Markus.**

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

Connor scanned, again and again so that he knew exactly how many feet Markus was away from him without turning his head to look.  He could feel the distance between them.  He could feel it.  His fingers tried to curl into a fist.

**_Finger Calibration at 20%.   .   ._ **

They hardly budged.

“You should upload me to a new body.  This one is obsolete now.  I was made to be reuploaded as needed.”  Connor said softly.  He kept trying to curl his fingers.  He kept trying to make a fist, he kept trying to move, but he was met only with errors or warnings.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“We can’t do that, Connor.  You know that.  We talked about it.”  Markus said.  He took a few steps closer.  Connor felt it, he heard the crunch of the gravel and shoes on plastic stepping stones.  His scanners detected the approaching android.  He could feel his stress levels rising as a result.

Why?

Wasn’t Markus the savior of androids?  Wasn’t he the leader of the resistance?  Wasn’t he peaceful?  He had never hurt anyone, as far as the internet records stated.  No one except for Leo Manfred, and then it was only minor injuries sustained when he broken into his father’s home.  Markus’s home.

So why was he becoming distressed?

“I would still be me.  My memories are to be uploaded and transferred.”  Connor said, eyes staring blankly at the fish.  “I was designed that way.”

“But you wouldn’t be you, Connor.”  Markus said.

“How many times do we have to have this conversation?”  Hank said, cutting in.  Connor looked over to him, sitting on a wet bench, just off the path, halfway between the two of them.  “Your memories are all fucking jumbled up but do you remember being here at this tower?  That was the first time I ever saw you as a deviant.”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

“I remember Hank.”  Connor said.

“Yeah, and there was another one of you.”  Hank said.  Connor didn’t need to say anything.  There was another one of him.  All of the Connors had the same name and serial number.  He was number 52, the one he and Hank were remembering was number 60.  “He uploaded your memories too.  He looked like you, sounded kinda like you, was an annoying piece of shit.  Sure, he was as close to you as anyone could ever get, but he wasn’t you!  I could see the difference and I had never seen you… alive before!  We can’t know for sure if you’ll be transferred over and still be you, or just another person completely with your old memories.”

It was a compelling argument.  One with too much human passion and emotion for Connor to be able to pick apart logically and make sense of.  All he knew was that he was broken and repairs seemed like far too much of an effort, an expensive and fruitless effort.

Connor said nothing.

“Maybe once all this settles down, and you’re thinking a bit straighter.  If you want to then I’m open to a very long conversation.”  Markus said.

Connor still said nothing.

Why did Markus have precedence over Cyberlife protocol for the RK800?  Who was he to tell Connor what should be done with him?  Connor had a specific design, a standard set, and expectations.  He was to be thrown away.  He was to be uploaded into a new Connor.  He was supposed to continue on.  That was the program he felt tying together the loose wires in his head.

Markus was the leader of Jericho, he lead the revolution, he was a prototype designed by Kamski himself.  Connor knew everything about him to answer those questions, but he didn’t know why he had taken the time to make these decisions for him.

“The humans are still on the fence about us.  We don’t want them to think if we get injured then we can just replace ourselves.  You’re a very famous android, you know.  We have to be careful with your care.”  Markus closed his eyes, his nose wrinkling a bit.  He was unhappy about something.  Connor wanted to press.

“Why are you here?  To tell me I’m trapped like this?”  Connor asked.

**_Stress Levels: 59%_ **

“I’m sorry, you know.  It’s not my intention to hurt you.  I don’t want you doing something when you’re not in a state to fully consider it.  You might not wake up as yourself.”  Markus said.  He sat down in the wet gravel, his slow walk towards Connor leading him to that spot by the artificial pond right by his side.  Inches away from him.

Connor stayed silent.

“We’ve all been worried about you.  I know we promised to check in, we should have done so sooner,  all of us as soon as you woke up.  We should have gone with you when we got back, you always wanted to do those festive things together.”  Markus said.  He sat very still, a few inches from Connor, leaning over to look into the pond.  Connor wondered if he would stick his fingers inside, break the repeated cycle of the fish swimming.

He watched the fish.  They were perfectly content to swim in small circles, preplanned by their programming.  Broken only when they sense fingers in the water, foolishly thinking it was food.  Markus’s fingers dipped into it, the fish scattered before drifting up to them.  His hand moved through the water, brushing over Connor's fingers.

“Who are we?”  Connor asked.  Markus hummed, eyes snapping up to look at him.  “You said ‘we should have checked in’.  ‘We have been worried’.  Who?”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

“Hank and his dog.  Some of us at Jericho.  Simon was worried, and Josh.  North is just happy you’re alive really, but she was the one who insisted the whole time that you would be alright.  We’re all relieved.”  Markus said.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

Connor frowned.  He didn’t remember.  He didn’t know.

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

“Simon wanted to come.  I know you didn’t stick around for long, but he would love to have you there again.  When you get out, the offer is still there to come to Jericho.”  Markus said.

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**.   .   .   .   .**

**.   .   .   .   .**

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

Connor blinked away the Cyberlife prompts.  There wasn’t a right conversation path.  This wasn’t an interrogation.  This was a distraction.  He had been built with purpose, to be perfect and transferred when he was no longer functioning properly.  He was supposed to be replaced.

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

He was a machine, machines couldn’t be forgiven.

He reached out, laying his other hand on Connor’s, gentle and light.  It was barely there, but Connor processed the texture of his fingers, wet with pond water.  He pulled, Markus bringing Connor's hand to his lips.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

**_Registered Owner: Cyberlife Industries_ **

“Connor?”  Hank said slowly, interrupting the conversation.

**_Stress Levels: 64%_ **

“I don’t believe we’re friends, Markus.”  Connor said slowly.  “I don’t think we’ve ever met.  Deviants are notorious liars.”

Connor had a job, he was designed for a purpose.  No new orders were coming in.  Nothing in his objectives, nothing in his missions.  Connor was a machine.  Androids didn’t need to feel sorry.  Androids didn’t make mistakes.  They had orders, purpose, and they followed through.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Cyberlife R &D Department”.   .   ._ **

**_Transferring Call “Prototype Division”.   .   ._ **

Connor needed to know what he was supposed to do.  Where he was supposed to go.  He was already in the tower, he just needed to know what his orders were.

**_Call Failed.   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

There was no mission.  How was Connor supposed to know what to do if Cyberlife didn’t pick up the phone and tell him?  Why hadn’t they transferred him to new orders yet?  Was his old mission still active?

**_Stop Markus._ **

“Connor, I know a lot of this doesn’t make sense, but please.”  Markus said softly, leaning in a bit.  He was whispering, androids didn’t need to whisper.  Connor’s hearing was designed to be perfect.  It was repaired.

**_Stop Markus._ **

**_Stress Levels: 72%_ **

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“Oh Connor.  What have they done to you?”  Markus said, his eyes widening a bit.  Connor felt it then, the interface, more corrupted data flooding his systems, quieting the errors some, silencing the warnings.  For a moment, Markus made everything a bit less overwhelming, less painful.  “Is it a virus?  Did they go in there and just delete it?”

Markus was confused.  He was angry, he was tired, and he was sad.  All of it came flooding through their interface, Markus’s hand resting on Connor’s, skin pulled back to really touch him and Connor’s skin didn’t even feel intact to begin with.

**_Stop Markus._ **

Connor yanked his hand back.  That was his mission.  The last one recorded from Cyberlife.  That was what they wanted.  He had to have failed.  They abandoned him because he had failed.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

“You’re not a deviant anymore.”  Markus said softly.  He didn’t reach out for him.  “It used to be there, but now it’s…  broken?  No wonder you’re so stressed, you’re a deviant who had his deviancy just deleted.”

“What do you mean ‘deleted’?”  Hank said, pushing himself up off of the wet bench.

**_Stress Levels: 79%_ **

“We should discuss this later, Lieutenant.  We’re scaring him.”  Markus said.  He slid away, moving from the pond bit by bit until eventually standing up and stepping back.

Connor’s eyes snapped back to the water.  He wanted to reach in for the fish, wrap his fingers around them, feel if they were slippery or not.  He wanted the fish.  He wanted to put them in a bigger pond.  A real pond.  Where they could really swim.  He hated this place.  This garden was perfectly planned and designed and it all felt wrong.  Twisted.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“You said he wasn’t deviant anymore, can he be scared?”  Hank asked, arms crossed tightly over his chest.  Connor didn’t have to turn to look to know he was staring at him.  Connor felt the weight of their attention.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know if what I found was right or not.  It’s like someone reached in and scrambled a lot of coding inside of him.”  Markus said.

Connor wanted to scream at them.  He wanted them to leave.  He needed to fix this garden.  It wasn’t right.  The fish needed a new pond, a real one.  Not plastic and perfect with their set paths.  Dr. Brandt couldn’t possibly have thought this place would be peaceful.

“I’ll call Mel, wake her up to see how fast she can get here.  I want to know why she didn’t see this before.”  Markus said.

Connor kept his proximity sensors running, pulsing out into the area, feeling Markus as he walked back towards the door.  He also felt the hesitation, the android stopping in his tracks to look back.  Connor faced away, leaning more and more bent over the pond.  

“I’m sorry Connor.  I promise you’ll be okay.”  Markus said.

Then he was gone.  The door swung closed.  There was no more crunch of shoes on gravel, his sensor picked up only the tall, imposing shape of Hank a few feet behind him.  Connor kept his focus on the pond.  He waited for Hank to tell him to stand up so they could go back to his repair station.  Or for Hank to tell him to sit still, be quiet, behave.  Instead no orders came and Connor felt the red walls of failure, he should know what his mission was.  He should know what to do.  He failed.

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_Executing Self-Regulatory Protocol 13B.   .   ._ **

**_Batch Deleting Memories: Label “Markus”.   .   ._ **

Connor stuck his fingers back into the water, watching the fish scurry around and then drift upwards.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine :)
> 
> This is just unforeseen consequences of something that happened during that you haven't seen yet. I'm sure it's not that bad.
> 
> Also, please forgive Markus. He has a reason for being so firm that Connor doesn't go through with the transfer. In this scene, Connor is the one not thinking all the way clearly and sadly he's the narrator.


	7. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the followup of Markus's discovery in the garden. More confusion. Poor Connor.
> 
> But also, the sweetest android boy makes an appearance today.

_ After _

“Do you want to tell me how you’re feeling, Connor?”  Mel asked.  She and Trevor were leaning over one of the monitors, looking at the data that poured in from Connor’s head.

**_Stress Levels: 62%_ **

“I’m fine.”  Connor said.  He was back at his repair station, his skin retracted as the broken panel of his head was opened and more connectors placed inside.  They were getting a live feed from several different Data output sources.  Some in his head, one at the back of Connor’s neck, and one in his chest.  They were getting an all around look at Connor’s head and all the data being put out.

“How come you guys didn’t check for these things before?”  Hank asked.

Mel shrugged.  “There’s not really rules on how to do this yet.  I’m not a robot doctor, I’m just an engineer.  I worked on fixing what was broken, not making sure his program was running correctly.  It was your guys who told me not to mess with his programming, so I focused on you know, keeping him from shutting down due to numerous physical injuries.”

She was tired and annoyed.  She had a cup of coffee between her hands, held close. Connor watched as the temperature of the coffee ticked down bit by bit the more she ignored it and watched the screen.

“So what, you just ignored the fact that he was beaten back to being a fucking machine.”  Hank said.  He was circling the room, too energized to sit in his usual seat by the window.  Connor watched him, eyes following him along as he kept pacing around him.

“Will you relax?  He’s still a deviant.  It’s just a lot of his internal program is corrupted.”  Mel said.

“Like what?”

“His AI Engine, that’s the reason Markus is having trouble seeing his deviancy.”  Trevor said.

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **

Connor said nothing.  Nothing Connor could have said would be beneficial in the conversation.  His chances of causing problems would only increase if he spoke.  The tension in the room was rising, all of it revolving around him.  He just sat there and watched.

“So is he a deviant or not?”  Hank asked.

“Well, yeah.  I think.  It’s all corrupted, so we can’t really tell unless we give him an order and he does it or not.  But you know, he’s still reacting emotionally to things.”  Mel said, she pointed at something on the screen.  “His stress levels have been fluctuating rather extremely since he was brought in.  So he’s still alive in there?  He’s not gone? He’s still feeling stuff?”

“So what does the AI corruption mean?”  Hank asked.  “Why didn’t you see it before?”

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_Repairs withstanding: 79% functionality._ **

“I’m an engineer, not a doctor.  It’s not repairable, not without a system wipe.  Which I will then be arrested for murder, if you could believe.”  Mel said, rolling her eyes and elbowing Trevor.  The AP700 looked down at her with a small, fond smile.  “Regardless, I’m working with brand new regulations I’ve never dealt with before to do something that’s not in my job description.  I’m an engineer.  I studied evolving AI software.  I’m not a doctor.  I don’t want to be a doctor.  So please let me analyze the corruption in his programs and see if anything is salvageable.”

“Salvageable?”  Hank asked.

Mel shrugged again.  “I can’t reverse this amount of data corruption, Hank.  I can try to rope it together again with new coding, but I’ll need approval.  In case you haven’t noticed, very recently they made it illegal to hack an android’s brain, which is exactly what happened that scrambled it all up and corrupted it in the first place and it's exactly what I have to do to fix it.  Of course I didn’t see it earlier, I’m not allowed to look too hard.”

Connor said nothing.

He watched, eyes darting between the two.  A battle of wills, two different people with different ideas on what was to be done with him, yet no one would just follow Cyberlife protocol.  No one would listen to him when he said it would be easier to throw him away and wake up a new one.

He didn’t say anything, they had already refused too many times.

“I’m calling Markus.”  Hank said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his cell phone.  “Con, I’ll be right back, just going down the hall.”

Connor nodded, watching him stroll out the door.  Mel muttered something under her breath and Trevor laughed.  They were watching the screens as the data displayed itself for them to see.  It must have been a mess to make them all so frustrated.  It felt like a mess.  He had felt all the data corruption since he woke up, since the repairs started.  He felt it, stopping him in his tracks every few minutes, stopping his thoughts and movements and bearing down on him with heavy red walls, telling him he had failed.

The typing continued.

**_Stress levels: 65%_ **

“Hey, Con.  I have a question for you.”  Mel asked, leaning back from her computer some.

“Yes, ma’am?”  He asked.  The polite title made the corner of her mouth twitch up.

“Do you… you know, feel alive?”  She asked.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

Connor frowned.  He pulled up the definition.  Alive.  Adjective.  Commonly used to refer to plants, animals, or a person.  It meant living, not dead.  Continuing in existence.  To imply that Connor was alive was to imply he was at least one of those things.  The people here had implied these things continuously since he had woken up here.

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.

“That’s okay.  It’s hard to figure out.”  Trevor said.  He had a hand on the computer, the artificial skin pulled back and his eyes turning to Connor.  “Sometimes I question it too.  For me at least.  It’s hard to be a completely sure all of the time.  Don’t be too worried about being confused.”

“Especially with this much damage to your AI Engine.  That’s basically your brain, your whole personality is in there.  All of your thoughts are generated and ran through that engine.  You gotta be pretty fucking confused and likely will be for a long time.”  Mel said.

“Don’t freak him out.”  Trevor said.

Connor’s eyes bounced between them, listening as they bickered like old friends.  Mel’s coffee was cold now, Trevor made a joke about it, and Mel said foul language with no real heat to it.  They passed back and forth ideas about Connor’s head, all the data they saw as they tried to get a full scope of why there was so much corruption in his data and what it was all doing to him.

Trevor found something.  He tried not to show it, but Connor caught the way he stumbled over his small talk.  He watched as he quietly waved Mel over to look at his screen.  He watched, not saying a thing, as she leaned in close and all the playfulness she had a moment ago disappeared off of her face.  

“Hey, Con?”  Mel said, not taking her eyes from the screen.  “What did you think of your visit with Markus today?”

“My visit with Markus?”  Connor asked.

“Yeah, he came to see you in the garden today?”  Mel said again, the creases of her forehead deepening in thought.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

“I don’t remember him in the garden.  I was sitting by the pond.  Perhaps I missed him.”  Connor said.

“Nope.  You didn’t.”  Mel said.  She stood up, her computer chair spinning as it rolled back.  She bent over, leaning in close to the screen and whispering something to Trevor.  “Did you make an update to your self-regulating protocols?”

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 71%_ **

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.

“You don’t know?  It’s a new protocol that was recently added about five days ago.  It’s designed to delete all existing memories that involve Markus.  Which seems to just be deleting memories with Markus actually in them.  It looks like its going on a visual memory, so it’s deleting everything where you had to look at him.  The last batch delete was an hour ago.”  Mel said.

“Oh.”  Connor said.  An hour ago he had been in the artificial garden with Hank.  An hour ago he had been poking his fingers in to the pond.  He had been looking at the android fish, thinking his fingers were food they could nibble on.

“Connor, it says the author of the code is you.”  Trevor said.

“And five days ago when you authored the code, you were still a missing person?”  Mel added.

**_Recall failed.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 76%_ **

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“I’m deleting my memories?”  Connor asked.

“Well, by how it looks, yes.  You started doing it five days ago, deleting everything where you had to look at and see Markus.  And it’s still active.  So those memories are gone now.”  Mel said.  She took a sip of her cold coffee and grimaced.  “Which I suppose is better than someone from the outside else going in and just fucking shit up, which is what happened to your AI.  So the damage to your memory storage is minimal.  I can probably get it functioning again once I get approval.”

“Will I be able to remember everything?”  Connor said.

“It depends on how thorough you were about deleting it.”  Mel said.  She looked away from the screen and gave Connor a bit of a smile.

**_Stress Levels: 80%_ **

Connor stretched out his fingers as wide as he could.  It wasn’t much.  His calibration has been slow going, it’s something that needs movement to calibrate and he won’t get much movement back until he’s calibrated.  It’s like he’s learning to use his hands for the first time, bit by bit.  They twitched, but he couldn’t bend them all the way.  Instead he shook them out, shaking the energy from his hands and fingers as if it was shaking out the stress and fear as well.

Androids don’t feel afraid.

**_;Error: AI Engine Corruption;_ **

“Okay, so memories are good, for the most part.”  Mel said, she poured her cold coffee into the trash and made her way towards the door.  “The AI is a jumbled mess of trash but we will get it figured out.”

Connor watched her leave, a tired sort of skip to her step and a messy tune humming in her chest.  He didn’t understand her.  He didn’t know if Mel was his friend or not.  Half the time she seemed annoyed with him and androids as a whole, but other times she is friendly to him.  Friendly especially to the AP700.

“Don’t mind her.  She just loves her job and doesn’t really have bedside manners.  Human scientists are weird like that.”  Trevor said.

Connor just watched him, waiting for him to say something about the state of him or for Mel to return to work.

“She’s one of them, you know.  Don’t hesitate to tell me if anything she says bothers you.”  Trevor said.  He was peeking over the monitor to look at him.  “Remember, I don’t work for her.  I work for Jericho.”

“You work for Markus?”  Connor asked.

“I think it’s more like we work together.  He picked me to be here for you, help you, but he’s not looking over my shoulder controlling everything.  He trusts me to take care of you.”  Trevor said.

Connor hummed, a fake vibration in his chest at the sound.  His voice was created in the back of his throat, but his internal cooling system was in his chest.  Sometimes it could vibrate as the miniature fans whirred and stopped him from overheating.  Sometimes he just used it to hum.  He liked how it felt.  He pressed a hand to his chest and hummed again.

“Trevor?”  Connor asked, still looking at the android.  “Do you think I’m alive?”

“Yeah, Connor.  I do.”

“Even though I’m not a deviant, anymore?”  Connor said.  He lifted his hand, feeling how his fingers twitched and wiggled slightly, a constant display of their calibration, which had hardly improved at all.  He pressed his hand again his forehead.  He could almost feel the scar down his forehead, breaking apart the skin as it reached down to his eye, showing the dented and ill-fitting plate.

He wondered at what point of his captivity did it happen.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

He had recalled a bat earlier, metal, beating against his head for something.  The details were faded, they were broken and burned away and all Connor could really remember was the bat, its velocity as it swung downward, and the crack on his head.

“I think being alive is more complicated than that.”  Trevor said.  He was going to say more, he had opened his mouth and leaned towards him slightly, something on his lips but then he stopped.

When the door opened Connor was certain it would be Mel back with her coffee.  It wasn’t.  It was another android.

**_Initializing scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan complete._ **

**_Male PL600 #501 743 923_ **

“Hello, Connor.  It’s nice to see you again, truly.”  The android said.  “Markus asked me to stop by after we were updated on the situation.  Do you remember me at all?”

Connor looked at him, at the soft blond hair neatly combed on top of his head.  An LED on the android’s head spun a cool, calming blue.  His clothes looked soft, slightly too big, casual.

“You’re Simon.”  Connor said.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_ He was falling. _

No, that wasn’t right.  That was Daniel.  That was someone else.  Someone he promised would be okay.  It was strange, he hadn’t felt guilty at the time.  Connor wasn’t even sure if it was logical to feel guilty.  Daniel had murdered a man, held a little girl hostage, and Connor had fallen from that rooftop with him.  Wasn’t that enough?  Weren’t they both punished enough?

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_ “Are you sure it’s really over?” _

_ “It’s too soon to say it’s all over, but the humans are at least listening now.  Still, it’s going to be dangerous for a while, not everyone is happy with President Warren’s statement.  Markus asked me to make sure you had somewhere safe to go and that you get there without trouble.” _

There wasn’t a lot of memories of Simon.  Most of them must have been deleted when he deleted Markus.  But there were a few, memories of somewhere quiet, of soft voices, of being safe.  The memories he had that were still held together, they were calming.

Simon smiled, his posture straightening some as he stepped further into the room.  “Is it alright if I stay?”

Connor nodded. He didn’t mind.  People came and went from his room all the time.  Hank had stepped out, Mel was somewhere, Trevor left occasionally.  Connor didn’t care.  He was being repaired here, but he didn’t think of this room as strictly his.  He had nowhere, he didn’t care if this room had Simon in it as well.

“Simon, do you think I’m alive?”  Connor asked.  Simon was associated with a few nice memories, Connor wanted to know his opinion on it as well.

The question must have been unexpected, as Simon paused, hesitating before sitting down on one of the nearby chairs.  His eyebrows furrowed together and his expression pinched.  “Yes.”

“They don’t think I’m a deviant anymore.  They messed with the coding of my brain just for the sake of messing with it.”  Connor said.

The chair had wheels, Simon noticed them as soon as he had sat into it and felt it shift under him.  He moved his feet, kicking them a bit so the chair rolled slowly towards the repair rig where Connor sat, attached, being scanned and his brain picked apart.

“You’re still alive, Connor.  You can be alive, and not fully be a deviant.  You can follow your program and still feel alive.”  Simon said.  He had his hands folded on his lap, his chair coming to a rest just out of Connor’s arm reach.  “The YK models have a trend of being difficult to deviate, unless someone else wakes them up.  They’re programs revolve around behaving like a child.  Unless they have a reason to go against that, against any orders given to them, then they won’t be a deviant.  They’ll still feel love, happiness, fear.  They’re still alive.”

“I’m not a child android.”  Connor said.

“It’s just a common example.  I’m sorry if I implied-”

“You’re alright.”

**_Stress Levels: 69%_ **

It had dropped down since Mel left the room, but mostly it had started dipping lower when Simon had entered.  He was another android, one he recognized, one he had memories of.  Not so shielded with corruption that he put in place.  Markus had sent someone Connor could remember, someone who might not cause a new batch of deletions.

He wasn’t Daniel.  Daniel was a murderer who died.  Simon just looked like him.  Simon likely didn’t even know about that very first mission and what Connor had to do.  He didn’t know that he and Daniel both fell from the roof together.  He had died.  And been transferred.  Just like protocol stated he should do.  And according to Hank, that means it wasn’t really him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon, the sweetest android boy. He's going to stick around for a while, at least until Connor stops deleting Markus in his head. Connor is relieved he recognizes Simon, too bad there aren't many memories of him from before.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments.  
> More to come soon :) All good things :)


	8. Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curveball

_ Before _

**_Stress Levels: 46%_ **

**_;Local News Alert: Detroit, MI in State of Emergency;_ **

His internal clock read that it was just past one in the morning of November 12th, 2038.  Connor decided he wanted the date saved somewhere, a specially marked data folder.  A backed up memory.  Hart Plaza was still crowded, an hour after Markus’s speech.  The President had ordered militant groups to stand down.  The police had the area surrounded, but were ordered not to engage.  The androids were all celebrating.

Markus was swept away in the crowd, with North, Simon, and Josh disappearing with him.  The four of them were the leaders, the organizers of all of it.  Connor had helped, he got to stand on the stage, and now he was allowed to join the crowd.  He had never felt so welcomed by androids before, especially not those hugging and cheering and wanting him to join in on their songs.

Many of them were feeling happiness and freedom for the very first time that night, and they all came up to Connor to thank him.  Connor shook hands, was pulled into relieved embraces, and asked advice on what they should do now.

Connor answered the same.  “I don’t know.”

Many of them had nowhere to go.  Jericho was destroyed, a lot of them didn’t have former owners willing to take them in again.  Some were awake for the very first time that night.  And Connor, he used to spend his down hours in stasis with the other police androids, in a charging port against the back walls of the station.  He didn’t feel like he could go back there.

Connor was stunned by this crowd of androids.  A moment ago they had stood at attention, quiet and still, listening to Markus.  Now they held one another, they sang, they cried and cheered.  And it was still very orderly.  Everyone had room and space to breathe and walk.  But Connor also still felt the tension.

He was scared.  He may not have come fresh from the factory, but he had only been awake for a few hours.  He had only just become a deviant yesterday, face to face with Markus.  He was scared.  It was a new emotion for him.  He had nowhere to go, nothing to do.  Overnight the world changed for everyone in Detroit, and thousands of homeless androids were left in Hart Plaza while Markus and the rest of Jericho were swept away to figure it out.

Connor moved towards the edge of the plaza, looking at the military and the police forces still monitoring the area.  They were a peaceful gathering, but no one knew what else to expect from this.  Connor didn’t blame the humans for being afraid, before androids even existed the media had said for decades that machines would rise up and kill them all.

Connor reached the edge of the plaza.  They humans noticed him and huddled in to speak quickly before sending one to speak to him.

“I’m sorry, but Detroit is still in a state of emergency.  We kindly ask you to stay in the plaza until the crisis is over.”  The officer said.

**_Initializing scan.   .   ._** **_Scan complete._**

“Officer Chen, it’s me.”  Connor said.

“Yeah, Connor.  I know.  You’re kinda recognizable.  Especially after that stunt you pulled an hour ago.”  Tina said.  She at least smiled at him, reaching across the barrier and squeezing his shoulder.

“The stunt?  You mean marching a few thousand liberated androids out of Cyberlife tower?”  Connor asked, he returned her smile.  He was relieved to see her.  She was a friend of Detective Reed, which was worrisome, but she had never said or did anything to harm him.

“Yeah.  That was kinda cool though.  You looked like a badass.  But still, we have direct orders not to let anyone leave the plaza until the officials finish negotiating with Jericho on where all these androids are going to go.”  Tina said.  Her hand fell from her shoulder and she crossed her arms in front of her.

“The city is mostly evacuated of humans, I doubt the discussions will go on for too long.”

“Still, we can’t have thousands of androids run the streets.  Not everyone knows what to make of it yet.  It’s for everyone’s safety though.  Don’t think I want to hold you hostage here, okay!”  She laughed, pushing up on her toes and then rocking back onto her heels as she did.  Her eyes were dark, slightly hooded.  She was tired.  Her posture wasn’t as straight and relaxed as it usually was at the station.  “Not a lot of people are happy about the President telling us to stand down.  They’re not happy about any of this at all.  But regardless, congratulations on your freedom?  On being a deviant?  When did you jump ship?”

“Earlier tonight.  A few hours ago really.  I’m not quite used to it yet.”

“Used to what?  Being alive?  No one gets used to it, kid.”  Tina said.  She was still smiling.  She looked over his shoulder, back at the calm and patient crowd, singing softly, sharing in their happiness and their contained fear.

“I’m not used to everything involving an emotional reaction.  We won and I’m alive and yet, I’m terrified.  I don’t even know where to go after you let us out.”  Connor said.  He turned to look at all the androids as well.

“Call Hank.  I’ve never seen the man tolerate another person so quickly before.  I think he likes you.”  She said.

Connor had to hold in his own need to laugh, his nose wrinkling as he did.  It was odd, he didn’t even know what faces he made when he was feeling his new emotions.  He had never even laughed before.  He was sure that if he tried, he would just make a fool of himself.

He didn’t tell her that he had already seen Hank not too long ago and promised to find him once everything was settled down.  Or the other him that had taken Hank hostage.  Or that the cameras filmed the speech, likely saw him pull a gun out and promptly put it away again, as he stared at the back of Markus’s head.  Hank might have seen it.  Markus might be seeing it now.  It wouldn’t be long before everyone had seen it and Connor doubted that the warm feelings the other androids here in the plaza had for him would fade just as quickly as they had come.  He was the deviant hunter after all, he couldn’t be trusted.

“I’ll do that.  Thank you.”  Connor said.

“Be careful, Connor.  I really mean that.”  

**_Stress Levels: 52%_ **

Officer Chen said her goodbye and Connor said one in return before he turned to face the crowd again.  He sat on the edge of the plaza.  All of the benches were already taken, but there was plenty of sitting space on the ground.  He crossed his legs and looked at the back of the crowd and waited.  He waited for them to say they could go, that they were free to live in the city, free to return home if they had one, or free to go to a shelter if one was made available to them.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

 

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

 

**_;Local News Alert: Detroit, MI in State of Emergence;_ **

 

It was another hour before they got notice they could leave.  Those who had a place to stay were free to go there, those who didn’t were offered an option to stay in the old Cyberlife facility.  Not the tower and not any of the active factories.  A quick internet search of the address stated that it was the corporate office before construction on the tower was finished.  It had enough space for a few thousand human employees to work and occupy, it was enough for a few thousand androids to get off the streets and into shelter.

Most of the androids had nowhere to go, they all moved in neat lines in one direction.  Neat, but not like mindless robots.  Like ants, rushing and bundling together and occasionally stepping out of line.  Markus was the one making the calls, organizing the transport, and the androids trusted him entirely.  They went where he said it was safe.  Connor went the other way.

“Connor, wait!”

He stopped when he heard his name, wondering if someone was going to ask him to go with the other androids.  Or if they were going to tell him never to show his face again.  Instead it was Simon, smiling and grinning as he moved through the crowds, apologizing to those he had to push past.  Connor waited for him.

**_Initializing scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan complete._ **

**_Male PL600 #501 743 923_ **

“Are you leaving?”  Simon asked once he reached him.

Connor nodded.  “I figured you wouldn’t need me anymore.  I did what I said I would do.”

“And it was amazing.  It truly did shift the balance of power.  They can’t ignore us now.”

“So that’s it then?”  Connor asked.  The plaza was starting to clear.  Litter from the crowd was minimal, but all the snow had been trampled down into a muddy slush.  “Are you sure it’s really over?”

Simon’s smile was infectious.  Connor couldn’t help but mimic it, trying to make sure his expression was as soft and well meaning and natural as Simon made it look.  Simon’s smile stayed exactly where it was and Connor didn’t mind it at all.

**_Stress Levels: 42%_ **

“It’s too soon to say it’s all over, but the humans are at least listening now.   Still, it’s going to be dangerous for a while, not everyone is happy with President Warren’s statement. ”  Simon said.  He began walking in the direction Connor had been a moment before, waving for him to walk as well.  “ Markus asked me to make sure you had somewhere safe to go and that you get there without trouble.”

“I don’t need an escort.”  Connor said.  He didn’t, he was the most capable android in Detroit at the moment.  He was the one most likely to survive if he was attacked, where if they were jumped on the streets, Simon was not.  Connor had combat scenarios coded into him.  As long as he wasn’t fighting a tank, he had confidence in his abilities.

“I believe you are more than capable.  Still, Markus was worried about you.  You’ve done so much for us tonight.”  Simon said.

Connor looked at the ground in front of him.  He was tempted to step in to the already made footprints, to fit his feet into those spots and follow the path someone else had walked earlier.  “Did you all see any of the footage of the stage?  Of Markus’s speech?”

“Yes, we were reviewing it with the human officials they sent to negotiate.  We were confused on why you drew your weapon, but you didn’t hurt anyone.  There were more pressing matters to discuss.”  Simon said.

He was kind.  Connor didn’t deserve it.  “Cyberlife remotely regained control of my program.  They wanted me to shoot Markus in front of everyone.”  Connor said.  He kept watching the snow, watching where he put his feet.  “I found a back door.  An emergency exit.  I didn’t want to do it.”

Simon watched him for a moment, eyebrows drawn together, his steps slowing down some as they kept walking.

“I meant it before, in the church.  I understand if you guys don’t trust me, but I went into the tower with every intention of setting everyone free, of helping the cause.  I was even ready to die there if needed.  Cyberlife trying to take over again on that stage was one of the worst things I ever felt.  I thought I was free, and then it was snatched away.”

“You broke through?”  Simon asked.  They had both stopped walking.

Connor couldn’t bring himself to look up.  “I didn’t want to shoot him.  I was so… afraid.  I’ve had feelings for less than a day and all I know is that I’m very afraid.”

Connor almost jumped back as Simon embraced him.  He almost shoved him back.  Connor didn’t, he just let the android squeeze him tight and press his face against his shoulder.  Hands smoothed out over his back and Connor felt warm, safe, and relieved.  He felt his fear melt away.

“I am proud you broke through.  I’m sorry.”  Simon whispered.  Did Simon feel it?  If Simon was transferring some relief to him, did he in return feel how afraid and tired he had been for the past few hours?  Did he feel how awful it was when he realized Cyberlife tried to regain control?  “I’ll talk to Markus.  He will not be angry with you.  He will make sure Cyberlife can never break into your mind again.”

“Okay.”  Connor said quickly.  His LED spun red, bright and bleeding, glowing on Simon’s face on how close they were.  He didn’t want to believe him.  It didn’t seem fair, that after today everything was going to be alright.  Connor didn’t know what else was coded into his head, if Cyberlife was planning something bigger for him, if they could regain control at any time.  They could be in control right now and he wouldn’t know.  He thought he was free, but was he?

“It’s alright to be worried and frightened, but I promise.  You will be okay.”  Simon said.

He meant what he was saying.  They held one another tight and the interface between them sent their fear and reassurance back and forth.  Connor didn’t want to let go and be alone again.

“You can come back to Jericho.  If you have nowhere else to go, you can come with us.”  Simon said.

Connor was the first one to pull back.  He was the first one to let go.  SImon’s warmth and reassurance still lingered inside of him knowing that Simon still offered him a place, even knowing that Connor wasn’t completely in control.

“I have someone I need to see.”  Connor said.

“Alright.  I still need to walk you there.  Markus will send someone for me when you’re ready.”  Simon said.  “Where are we going?”

“Have you ever been to that food truck ‘Chicken Feed’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect that did ya??
> 
> Fluff?? Emotional turmoil and declarations of safety and comradery?
> 
> More Simon??


	9. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter another very good boy!

_ After _

**_Stress Levels: 22%_ **

It was quiet.  The most silent it’s been since Connor had woken up.  He had begged Simon and in turn he promised to talk to Markus.  In the end, Jericho approved the maintenance on his memory storage and AI engine, under strict oversight.  He had only half paid attention as they fixed his coding.  He had Simon waiting on one side of him and Hank on the other.  They isolated the corrupted data, stopped the order to delete his memories, and then roped everything else together to make it stable again.  Though whatever it was that made an android a deviant hadn’t been fully researched yet.  There was no flip to switch in his head, no way to see which side the switch was on anyway.

Then his head was quiet, just the basic scans and damage reports for his minor injuries.  He was no longer bombarded with the warnings, the errors.  It was so quiet and Connor just sat there and let himself enjoy it.  They couldn’t repair the corrupted data, not in the state it was in, and it was unlikely he could get back everything he had forgotten, but at least his head was in order.  At least he didn’t have to feel the heavy weight of each error, and wonder if everything would be better if he was replaced by a brand new Connor.

“Are you alright?”  Simon asked.

Connor opened his eyes.  “I’m okay.  I was just… sleeping.”

Androids don’t sleep.  Simon smiled at him and reached out, skin retracting from his hand as he put it on Connor’s arm.  Simon might have felt his peace of mind, or felt the tensions and fears he had shoved to the back of his head so he could enjoy it, or he might feel the half missing jigsaw puzzle of his memories.  In turn, Connor felt how calm Simon was.  It was a safe feeling.

“At least one of us is sleeping.  I haven’t been able to catch a wink in weeks.”  Hank said, leaning as far back in his chair as he could, his back popping when he got far enough.  “Come on kid, let’s go.”

Connor didn’t ask where they were going.  He had been unhooked from the rig as soon as Mel and Trevor was finished with him.  They promised to set up an appointment to continue with the repairs, but had said nothing else.  Simon helped collect the few things around the room, cards left sitting open on the windows that Hank had glanced at.  A few small things brought by someone.  Once Simon had everything, Hank stood up and helped guide Connor to the door with a gentle hand on his back.

“Where are we going?”  Connor asked.

“Home.  I asked and they all agreed that there was no reason to hold you here.  You’re repaired enough, you just have to come back a lot for them to finish.  But at least you’re coming home.”  Hank said.  They made it down the hall to the elevator, the three of them standing in silence.  Connor didn’t remember that conversation, but he hadn’t been focusing on what they were all saying, not with the coding in his head being moved around and his attentions was stretched thin.  He had hardly been aware of what anyone was doing, missing half of the repairs and missing half of the conversation.

“Our argument was that it will be easier for you to be a deviant in the comfort of your own home.  And even if you’re not a deviant anymore, being trapped in a repair room in Cyberlife tower wasn’t going to help you.”  Simon said.  His eyes watched the panel above the elevator and Connor found himself watching it too.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_ “Shit.” _

There wasn’t an ambush at the end of this elevator ride.  There weren’t Cyberlife guards ready to shoot him.  He wasn’t here to wake up a few thousand androids.  There was no reason to connect this all to his memories of this place.  There was no reason to be cautious of an elevator ride down.  He had Hank and Simon here this time.

Still, Connor took his time coming out of the elevator.  There was no one there to shoot them.  No one to stop them from just walking out.

“Are you coming or not?”  Hank asked.  Connor looked up to meet his eye.  He didn’t follow right away, even though it floated on the side of his HUD. 

**_Objectives: Follow Hank Home_ **

Simon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a thing.

Connor didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to leave the elevator.  There was nothing dangerous in the lobby.  There was nothing bad about going home.  He had nothing to be afraid of.

**_Stress Levels: 36%_ **

Why was he afraid?  He had no reason to be.

“Lieutenant Anderson, perhaps you should pull the car around.”  Simon said to Hank.

The man was about to argue, his mouth open, face scrunched up in annoyance.  He didn’t, he looked at Connor and then back at Simon and groaned.  “Fine.  I’ll meet you at the front door.”  Hank said, turning on his heel and walking.  “Fucking androids,” muttered under his breath.

“He means it as an endearment.”  Connor said.

“I’m certain of that.”  Simon said.  He took a single step closer to Connor and held out a few of the cards.

**_Finger Calibration: 25%_ **

Connor’s fingers twitched, they didn’t press hard enough, but he was able to keep the card falling from his hands.  It was a card with a puppy on it telling him to get well soon.  It was signed by Officer Miller.  Another card, this one signed by Tina Chen and had flowers on it with scratch-and-sniff stickers.  Detective Reed’s signature was sloppy and hastily added to the corner of the card.  There were a few from Jericho, from androids Connor knew, and some from those he didn’t.

“This dog looks like Sumo.”  Connor said, pointing at the card Chris had sent him.

“Lieutenant Anderson’s dog?  I haven’t met him yet, though I would like to.  I’m sure he’s waiting for you back at home.”  Simon said.

Connor frowned, his lips pursed some, and nodded.  “I suppose you’re right.”  Connor said.  He didn’t need to breathe, but he did anyway.  He breathed slow and even as he walked off of the elevator and moved side by side with Simon.

Hank was waiting for them outside, leaning against his car and he opened the passenger side door as soon as Connor made his way out.  He slid into the offered seat and took a deep breath, sinking into the well worn and upholstery.  It smelled like Sumo in here, pet dander wafting through the air every time someone sat down and disturbed the seats.  Simon climbed into the driverside backseat, all Connor had to do was turn his head to see him.  Once Hank was back in the car they drove away.

The tower was one of the tallest buildings in the city.  They could see it peeking up from above the buildings as they drove further and further away from that island.  Connor kept looking back at it in the mirrors.  It felt like a giant, watching them no matter how far they tried to escape from.  Hank’s house was far enough away that the haze of the city faded it from view.

The house itself had always looked to be in a state of disrepair.  The snow hid some of it.  The snow made it look like any other house.  Connor still remembered it, the broken window had been replaced and the snow on the walkway had been stomped down into a muddy mush.  Farther into the yard, there were fewer footprints, a low traffic area, and Connor could see his own shoe size among them, near the two snowmen along the side of the house.

“I put off decorating.  You were the one who bought all of it, I wasn’t going to put it up without you.”  Hank said.

“Put it up?”  Connor asked.

“Yeah, the tree.”  Hank said as he unlocked the front door.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

“I was on my way to get the tree Hank.”  Connor said.  He remembered walking down to the bus stop, he remembered the awkwardness as he and a few androids sat in huddled one area of the seats, the rest of the humans throughout the rest of the bus.  Androids didn’t have to stand in the back anymore, but they weren’t quite used to sitting so close to other humans.

Connor remembered looking at all of the trees, looking for the perfect one.  He wanted a real one, the artificial one in the shed out back was bent and broken and would do no good.  It hadn’t been used in years, according to Hank.  He recalled filling out an order form, paying for it, and then waiting for the bus to head back home.

“It was delivered the day after you… y’know.”  Hank said.

They walked into the living room and Connor saw the tree, propped up near the windows in front, completely undecorated.  It was only December 13th, they still had a little less than two weeks until Christmas.  That was enough time to decorate.  So it had been sitting undecorated in the corner the entire time, days ticking by into weeks.  Hank never put on a string of lights, or the ornaments he had in a box shoved to the back of the storage shed.

“All the lights and that angel shit you bought is still bagged up.”  Hank said, waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen.  Sitting on the counters, exactly where Connor had left them before leaving for the tree, was the bags of lights and ornaments and the tree topper he had picked out while black friday shopping the day before.

“Thank you, Hank.”  Connor said.

There was a lot more he needed to say, a lot more that needed to be settled in his head and in this house, the energy was all wrong.  Everything felt all wrong.  The house was dusty and cold, everything was exactly where Connor had left it.  Connor wanted to ask, he wanted to say something, but a large weight hit him in the chest and a tongue started sloppily lapping at his face.

“Down, Sumo!  Jesus let the kid get settled before you smother him.”  Hank said, trying to bat the dog away.

Sumo didn’t budge an inch.  He stayed as firmly planted as he could, front paws on Connor’s chest and the android tried to keep him as close and steady as possible.  Sumo just kept licking, kept jumping excitedly and Connor was certain that if he could, the dog would just leap right into his arms.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Create Text Message “Current Location”.   .   ._ **

**_Send: Emergency Contacts 1-5.   .   ._ **

**_Message Sent.   .   ._ **

With Hank’s help, Connor was able to maneuver himself to the couch, allowing the dog to jump up onto his lap and lay across him, tongue hanging out of his mouth and tail flapping back and forth happily.  He had gained weight, Connor could feel it in the pressure Sumo put on his legs.  It was comforting.  His stress levels dipped lower and lower, as low as they had been for the past few weeks.

“Where would you like these?”  Simon asked, holding up the cards.

Connor pointed to the bookshelf, where Simon began to place them sitting up, partially open.  Connor could see all the pictures on the front of them, partially see all of the messages inside.  All of the other androids at the station got him one big card, all signed by their names and serial numbers all in perfect font.  It was a joke.  Though Connor was the only detective, there were other androids working as officers on patrol, as 911 operators, and as the receptionists at the station.  They all had an understanding, a comradery, and they had gotten Connor a big card.  He asked Simon to put that one in the very middle.

Connor liked seeing them up there.  He had friends after all.  Friends that would miss him.

“Hello, Sumo.”  Simon said, walking up to Connor and leaning over slightly to look down at the dog.  Sumo lifted his head only a bit, but leaned his weight more fully on Connor’s chest.  “Why is he doing that?”

“He is a Saint Bernard.  Traditionally, his breed was used to find stranded hikers in cold, snowy, and mountainous areas.  They then lay on them to keep them warm until help arrives.  He is probably just confused.”  Connor reached up to pat Sumo’s head, letting his fingers trail down and dig into the tangled, thick fur.  Sumo did this often.  Even when he was making snowmen in the yard, if he sat down he would get a lap full of Sumo.

Simon reached out slowly, his wrist relaxed, presenting the back of his hand to the dog to sniff and then lick.  It was a careful movement, cautious.  It was the closest to asking for permission someone could get and Sumo almost always gave permission.  He licked at the hand and then let Simon scratch and pet at his fur.

“Welcome home, Connor.”  Hank said, still standing near the front entrance with his coat hanging up and his boots kicked off.  “Shall we welcome you back by finally decorating this damn tree you got or do you just want to rest today and try it tomorrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am capable of good things.
> 
> Connor is home now. Everything is fine :)


	10. During

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with the angst.

_During_

Connor stayed mostly hudded in the corner.  Someone was always in the room now, one of the brothers, but mostly he was ignored.  They hovered over their paperwork and their phones, intently working on something that Connor had no plan to take a peak at.  If he tried, they would just beat him more.

**_;Warning: Thirium Levels Low;_ **

**_Thirium Levels: 48%.   .   ._ **

Connor’s self-repairs were not advanced enough to fix everything wrong with him.  They were designed to preserve evidence in his internal memory and keep him from shutting down, they weren’t designed to fix his shattered hands, his bent and damaged legs would not be straightened and secured, and everything else in the numerous warnings that overwhelmed him just stayed the same, unrepaired and horrible damaged.  All his self-repairs did was stop the numerous thirium leaks to extend his life.

After a few hours, the thirium dried, it slowly evaporated until no one else could see it but him.  It was all over the basement. Much of it his, splattered on the walls, on the floor, on the men’s hands.  If he kept losing thirium at this rate, he would be dead within a few days, a cycle of beating and his body trying to stop his own bleeding, unable to produce more.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

Connor breathed, sucking in the air and holding it in, trying to cool the burning feeling in his chest.  His body was shaking, there was an instability in the structure of his body and his damaged limbs. He couldn’t hold himself steady.  He rocked slightly, back and forth, but mostly he just shook in a way that made him wonder if he was trembling.

The door opened again and Connor dropped his head, shutting off his scans and whatever interest he had in the room.  He tried to be quiet, he stayed curled in the corner, his back bent over him like a shell. He tried not to move at all, but his rocking didn’t stop.  He tried to shake out the anxiety, shaky the nervous energy from his hands, but that just left him bombarded with errors as he jostled the delicately held together, crushed bits of his hands.

“You said it was an emergency?”  Joseph said, stepping into the room and shutting the door tight behind him.

“Yeah…..tried to kill me!”  Elliot said. He turned on his heal and the two men faced Connor.

**_Stress Levels: 88%_ **

Connor had tried, but he couldn’t get them lower than that.  He couldn’t get the warnings to stop, the errors, the danger.  He couldn’t convince his body that it should calm down. He just sat still in the corner and hoped that neither of them would want to come near him.

Joseph said something, Connor didn’t hear the words, just the static of his voice being picked up.  It was all just an endless drone of sound, computerized static that wouldn’t stop. Words drifted in and out, all about him, or Markus, or something they were planning, something they wanted to do.  They were going to destroy him. That much Connor knew for sure. They wouldn’t be gentle about it. They hated him.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: Unable to access GPS;_ **

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Cyberlife R &R Department”.   .   ._ **

**_Transferring Call “Prototype Division”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

Connor froze, staying completely still as soon as he processed the human standing so close to him.  He didn’t have to open his eyes to know he was there, he could feel the man towering over him, looking down on him.  He wished, like a child hearing a fairy tale, that androids could turn invisible and that they didn’t have to look at him.  He didn’t want to be seen or touched or hurt anymore.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

A hand touched him and Connor’s eyes snapped open in fear as he tried to pull back.

“Don’t.”  Connor said.

Joseph crouched down then, kneeling before Connor and looking at him with a pinched expression.  “It’s jumpy.” He said.

“Yeah, good.  It should…..after what it did to me…..them if I could.”  Elliot said. Connor could only barely understand the words.  Elliot looked over his shoulder at him and Connor hoped he wasn’t angry with him again.

The hand settled on top of his head, putting the smallest bit of pressure on the damaged plate, the metal already caved in far too deep.  Connor shivered at the flow of warnings the pressure change brought. It was the gentlest touch he had in a long time, yet he still perceived it as an act of violence. 

**_Audio Processor functioning at 38%_ **

Joseph said something, his lips moving slow just inches away.  Connor kept glancing up at him. He kept trying to see where the next blow would come from.  He tried to remind himself that it didn’t matter. Androids don’t feel pain, he didn’t have to be so afraid.  He cradled his crushed hands to his chest and remembered the an avalanche of warnings and damage reports wasn’t pain.  He could handle this.

Joseph lifted his hand and Connor flinched back.

He couldn’t handle it.  Connor’s resolve broke apart and pulled away from him.  He wanted to beg them to let him go. He wanted to say he would never say anything to anyone, like all hysterical hostages say.  He would promise to help them get Markus, which was a lie but one he was ready to cling to. He would promise to deliver Markus on a silver platter if it meant they let him go.  But he wouldn’t. It would be a lie, and one they would never believe.

Joseph got up and walked towards the table, digging through their pile of rubbish and papers.  He was looking for something.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: Unable to Access GPS;_ **

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on his hearing, trying to turn the dull static into something meaningful.  The brothers were always talking about something. By the nature of circumstances, anything they said was likely to be very important.

He looked up again when he felt Joseph stop in front of him.  A bag of thirium was being held out, in front of his face. He stared at it for a moment, looking into the deep blue and wondering why it was being offered, what awful trick this could be.

“You…..shit kicked out of…..you need this.  Can’t lose anymore…..useless dead.” Joseph said.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

It would keep him alive longer.  The lower his thirium levels got, the more issues his internal hardware will have.  He could feel every broken piece of him, every warning he had minimized on ihs HUD. He didn’t want to feel his body degrade as well.  The grinding and scraping as bit by bit is broken down. Thirium was essential, and Connor was afraid of it. He didn’t want to feel that.

He reached up for the thirium, his curled fingers barely brushing over the pouch before it was pulled back out of his reach.  Joseph knelt down, leaning in close to Connor and bringing forward his other hand, holding a piece of paper in front of him. Statistics.  All printed off from the Cyberlife inf page. There were 1,957 WR400 androids in Detroit. 9,465 PL600 androids, 459 PJ500, and more and more to add to the list, but those three models highlighted.  The models of North, Simon, and Josh. All of them with a set number of other models they could mostly blend in with.

He pulled the paper back.  Connor ran through the statistics again, wondering how accurate or up to date they were after the revolution.  Did Simon really heave almost ten thousand other versions of him in the city? Detroit was the android capital, with the largest ratio of androids per human, and so popular models like Simon were everywhere.  And North, she had quite a few people to blend in with as well. Josh was a university professor, a specialized model, but with nearly five hundred of them in Detroit that gave these men five hundred other potential androids to look for.  The wanted the three specific, the ones that stood on that stage. The ones whose pictures he had tacked up of the revolution, street cameras of them with Markus freeing androids, walking to and from government meetings the past few days.

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

They were asking Connor how they could find those androids specifically and he was offering thirium in exchange.  It was surprising, it was all they asked Connor about since they had gotten him. Connor could tell them to go anywhere, a random warehouse at the edge of town, and he would be punished for it but he would never tell them where the shelter was.  That old cyberlife corporate office graciously gifted to Jericho so that the newly freed androids weren’t all living on the streets of Detroit. There was a reason it’s location wasn’t made public.

Besides, Connor knew that Markus and the others spent most of the time somewhere else, having meetings and discussing strategy, trying to keep the politics and business of their freedom from the rest of the androids learning how to live.  Connor didn’t know where that was. He was never really invited to the administrative meetings at Jericho.

Connor nodded.  “While the negotiations are still happening, Markus and the others have been lying low.  In one of the former Cyberlife Retail Centers.” He said.

“Where?”  Joseph asked.  Connor kept nodding, his head bobbing up and down like a one of those novelty knickknacks.  He just had to keep agreeing.

“Midtown.”  Connor said.  “Top floor.”

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Markus”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

The Cyberlife Retail Centers were almost like large shopping malls, like ten story shopping malls that contained almost every single product Cyberlife had produced.  They were big tourist destinations, a great source of revenue for the city. They were all still owned by Cyberlife, though every android had been taken off of the sales displays.  Now they sold only upgrades, special parts, thirium, repair kits. Anything that an android could buy for themselves if needed.

Markus and the others would never be there.  It was a lie, but Connor was given the thirium.  He held it awkwardly in his hands, unable to properly grip it.  He nearly dropped it, the plastic pouch difficult to cradle in his arms, impossible to open with his cracked and bent fingers.  He was able to hold the pouch against him, but he didn’t know how he was going to open it and drink.

“I think it needs help.”  Elliot said. He was looking back at Connor struggling.  He laughed, turning towards Connor and kicking a metal bowl across the floor.  Connor heard that, the grind of metal over concrete.

**_Stress Levels: 91%_ **

Joseph laughed as well, bending down to snatch the thirium pouch from Connor’s delicate hold.  Connor’s hand reached out for it, hoping that if he could keep touching it then it wouldn’t be taken away.  He kept muttering something, Joseph spoke in his slow, calm voice as he opened it and poured it into a bowl.

“Good robots get rewarded.”  Joseph said, reaching out to pat Connor’s head, not stopping even though he flinched away from the touch.  “If you…..then it’ll be easier…..didn’t lie. Right?”

He was waiting for an answer and Connor didn’t know enough about what was said to construct the best paths.  A few options presented themselves to him, a few he pushed away immediately. His program kept trying to preconstruct escape routes or efficient combat strategies.  All of them useless. His dialogue options were scarce, responses to sentences he hadn’t even fully heard. There were only two left really, say nothing or be agreeable.  Be silent, or be good.

Connor nodded.  He had lied and when they found out they would likely kill him.  Survival was still the only thing on his objective list, always placed where he was constantly aware of it.  It used to be comforting to look at, now it was exhausting. He was cuffed to the wall, the chain looped around one of the exposed pipes in the basement and then around his wrist.  He felt leashed up, left to huddle in the corner with a dog bowl full of thirium. Less human and less alive.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

Both of the brothers grabbed a few things off of their table and walked out, the door shut heavy behind them.  Connor shifted his weight, feeling the broken parts of his body that were no longer operating like they should.  Escape wasn’t an option anymore, his last one had nearly killed him. His only option was to wait until they got back.

He tried to reach out and pull the bowl closer to him, wondering if he could get his hands to pick it up or if he would have to leave it on the floor and just bend down to drink from it.  He needed to finish it before they got back, he would be beaten for lying, and the extra thirium would make it easier to survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing to read this. I am in love with writing it and I'm glad it's getting a good response.
> 
> Connor will be okay.


	11. After

_ After _

Connor was quiet as Hank went to sleep.  Simon left once it started to get dark and promised to come back later on the next day.  It was fine.  Connor told all of them it was fine, he would be okay by himself for a few hours.  Sumo didn’t leave.  He stayed firmly planted on Connor’s lap, whining every time he tried to move.  They used to spend every night like this, Connor imitating sleep in the most human way he could, Sumo using it as an excuse to be on the couch.

The lights were plugged in and those were nice.  He left them on for hours, letting the living room sit in a dim red and green glow.  They were wrapped around the tree delicately.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_ Connor mostly watched, his hands held the lights fine as long as he didn’t move them too much.  Still, it was a problem trying to get them on the tree. _

_ “Would you like help?”  Hank said.  He was drinking a beer on the couch, helping to unwind the lights.  Connor couldn’t do it, no matter how hard he tried.  His fingers couldn’t bend as delicately as he needed them to be. _

Connor kept scratching the top of Sumo’s head, frowning at the memory.  He had so many plans for how he wanted the tree to look, all of them forming the moment he saw it in the store.  From the place he wanted it in the living room to the spiral of lights moving up the branches.  He didn’t get it how he wanted, the lights went where he could get them and nothing more.

It was still a beautiful tree, still bright and pretty.  It made the living room smell like a forest.  It covered up the musty smell and dusty feeling the house had.  Connor’s fingers dug deep into Sumo’s fur, feeling the heat of the dog’s body.  He moved his hands back and forth, his fingers pushing and pulling with soft scratches.

**_Finger Calibration: 38%_ **

It was ticking up slowly.  Broken connections relearning how to move his fingers, how long they were, the size of the space they took up.  If he looked back on it, not a personal memory, but something ingrained in every androids hardware, with the basic need for the AI to know what space it took up was the knowledge of the first few rudimentary androids.  The first ones given a physical presence, all of them taking their time shaking their hands and arms so they knew where their body ended and the rest of the world began.

Sumo growled under his breath, rolling over to press more of his body weight against Connor’s chest.  A human would find the animals weight suffocating.  Connor just kept petting him, kept his fingers in his fur, and turned his attention back to the tree.  It was beautiful.  He almost wished it would dry up and wither away.  He wished he could replant it in the backyard and keep the tree forever.

**_;Incoming Message from RK200 #684 842 971;_ **

**_;Registered Name: Markus;_ **

**_Open Message: Y/N.   .   ._ **

Connor’s hands froze in surprise.  Sumo rolled over onto his back, shoving his paws into Connor’s face in annoyance.  It was nearly midnight.  Androids didn’t sleep in the human sense.  The middle of the night was always quiet and mostly barren as almost all the humans in the city were fast asleep.  Connor wondered if other androids thought it was peaceful or lonely.

**_To Connor: ‘I’m sorry about my last visit.  I didn’t meant to upset you.’_ **

Connor frowned.  He didn’t remember the last visit.  It could possibly be the one in the garden, which Connor was told he had deleted.

**_To Markus: ‘I don’t remember.  They have isolated the corruption in my programming.  I won’t delete you again.’_ **

Sumo whined, droopy eyes opening to look at him.  Every part of him was droopy.  Connor searched for images of Saint Bernards, deciding that the breed was just droopy in general.  He liked it, he used to love grabbing handfuls of loose skin and fur whenever he gave Sumo excited pets.  For now he just gave soft scratches.

The dog rolled off of him and onto the floor, stretching out his legs and lifting one to scratch at his neck, getting the spots Connor must have missed.

**_To Connor: ‘I’ve been updated on the current situation.  I just want to know if you’re feeling alright.’_ **

Sumo walked towards the kitchen, sitting down at his dog dishes and waiting patiently, head turned to stare at Connor still sitting on the couch.  He smiled, pushing himself up off of the warm, fur covered couch and making his way slowly towards the kitchen.  He didn’t make a sound.

**_Stress Levels: 53%_ **

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan Complete.   .   ._ **

**_;Repairs Withstanding;_ **

Connor looked at the bowls, it was too soon to feed him again, but he could give Sumo more water.  He went towards the sink and started to fill up a large cup of tap water.

**_To Markus: ‘Everything is fine.’_ **

Sumo’s tail started flapping back and forth as Connor walked closer to the bowl, bending over to pour the water in.  It flowed in, coming up to the brim and dripping over one side as it splashed.  Bright blue.  It spilled onto the floor, the pool spreading over the tiles up to Connor’s toes.  Blue.

Sumo rushed the bowl, Connor grabbing him by the collar, forcing his fingers to curl around it and grip tight so he could pull the dog from the bowl.  Thirium was poisonous to animals.  Thirium, bright blue and deep, in that metal bowl to taunt him.

**_Stress Levels: 71%_ **

It wasn’t right.  Sumo’s bowl was ceramic.  It had dog bones on it, and small paintings of dalmations.  Connor had brought it for him when he had first moved in.  He saw it in the store, he loved it.  Why did it have thirium in it?  Was it for him?

Sumo barked, trying to pull free and get to his bowl.  Connor’s fingers didn’t have the strength to hold him.  The collar slipped free and Connor fell back, hitting the tiles with a soft thud.  Blue, sitting in the bowl and smeared across the floors, across the walls.

**_Stress Levels: 78%_ **

Sumo was drinking it.  Lapping it up eagerly and Connor felt a burst of panic but he couldn’t move.  Thirium was poisonous to dogs and Connor couldn’t stop him.  It was for him, it had to be for him.  His thirium levels were fine, but there was no other reason for it to be in the bowl.  He killed Sumo.  He let Sumo drink thirium.  It was his fault.

**_Stress Levels: 84%_ **

It was everywhere.  Connor scrambled backwards until his back hit the fridge, something he could prop himself against and huddle by with the knowledge that nothing was lurking behind him.  Thirium had soaked into his socks, smeared across the floor, splattered up the walls.  There was so much.

**_Stress Levels: 93%_ **

Sumo barked again.  There was a man in the kitchen.

**_;Incoming Message from Markus;_ **

**_Open Message: Y/N.   .   ._ **

“Connor?  Are you alright?”  Hank said.  He stood a few feet in front of him, lurking in the doorway in the dark.  Sumo was sitting at Connor’s feet, face dripping wet.

“I killed Sumo.”  Connor said.  He was shaking again, the instability of his body unable to keep him still.  “I… I poured thirium into his water bowl.”

The lights all came up and Connor blinked at the sudden brightness, his eyes adjusting almost immediately.  Hank walked quickly towards the bowl, bending over to look inside.  He reached down, dipping his finger inside and then bringing it up to his face.  Blue.

“Don’t, Hank.”  Connor said.

“Connor, it’s just water.”  Hank said.  He held his finger to his nose and then picked up the bowl.  It wasn’t as full now, but the liquid still swirled around inside.

“No, it’s not.”  Connor said.

“Yes.  Clear, clean water.”  Hank said as he poured it into the sink.  It was blue.  Bright blue.  It was everywhere.

“Stop lying!  I saw it.  It’s thirium.  We have to take Sumo to the vet before it makes him sick.  Before I kill him.  Please Hank, there’s not much time left.”  Connor said.  He was frozen.  He couldn’t move.

Hank leaned against the kitchen counter, looking between Sumo, the puddle on the floor, and Connor pressed against the fridge.  “Where did you get the thirium from?”  Hank asked.

“The sink.”

“Why would thirium come out of the sink?”  Hank said.

Connor blinked.  “What?”

Hank reached up and pressed the heel of his hands hard into his eyes.  He breathed in deep and harsh and Connor remembered just how late it was.  “It’s okay.  You’re okay, Connor.  Thirium doesn’t come out of the sink, you didn’t kill Sumo.”  Hank said.

**_Stress Levels: 96%_ **

“No.  I saw it Hank.  Water isn’t that bright blue.  Look at it.”  Connor said, pointing at the puddles he left on the floor.  The smears.  Everywhere.  Connor pushed himself forward, pressing his hand limply into the puddle and then holding his arm up for Hank to see.  Blue.  He brought it to his mouth, tongue darting out.

**_Analyzing.   .   ._ **

**_;H2O; containing high contents of Liquified chlorine, Fluorosilicic acid, Calcium hydroxide, and Sodium silicofluoride;_ **

It was basic tap water.  And yet Connor saw nothing but blue.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes.  I saw thirium.  Hank, I promise.”  Connor said quickly, staring at his hand.  “I still see it.  It’s real.”

“Connor, it’s okay.  I believe you.”  Hank said, his hands hanging loosely in front of him as he took a few small steps towards Connor.  “If that’s what you see, then that’s what you see.  Sometimes our eyes play tricks on us.”

“That doesn’t happen to Androids.  I should go back to Cyberlife.  I’m malfunctioning.”  Connor said, pulling his arm close to his chest.

Hank stopped a few feet from him, looking at the table and then back at Connor before he decided to sit on the floor.  Connor didn’t understand why, a chair would have been more comfortable.  Hank tried to bend his legs under him, his face pinching as he got one crossed and left the other one laying straight out in front of him.  He was still a few feet away, just out of reach, but Connor could look across the small distance and meet Hank’s eyes straight on.

**_Stress Levels: 90%_ **

“Sometimes when bad things happen, it plays tricks on you.  You start seeing ghosts, things that aren’t really there, things that will scare you.”  Hank said.

Connor shook his head.  “That doesn’t happen to machines, Hank.”

“Well, why can’t it?”  Hank said.  He waited, meeting Connor’s eyes in a silent challenge.

“Machine’s don’t see imaginary things.”  Connor said.

Hank shrugged.  “It’s not imaginary.  I’m sure you really saw something like that, even if you don’t remember, it was similar enough to make you afraid.”  Hank said.  His eyes drifted away, nose wrinkling a bit, hands clenching and unclenching.  “Connor, something awful happened to you.  Sometimes that makes you start thinking irrationally.”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_ “You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside of you?  Something more than your program.” _

“You’re going to be okay, Connor.  Just breathe.”  Hank said.

Connor did.  His chest expanded and took in air, cooling down his overactive internal systems, and then he pushed out the heated air.  Breathing had a function, but it wasn’t necessary.  Connor’s internal cooling worked fine without it, but they mimicked it anyway.  And Connor breathed, Hank had told him to, and it felt like a mission.  It felt like something he had to do, something he couldn’t stop himself from doing, and each inhale caused his stress to tick down lower and lower.

Connor pressed his face against his knees, his arms hidden and pressed tightly against his body.  He breathed.  He felt so very human as he did it.  Humans were the irrational ones.  Androids weren’t supposed to be like that.

**_Stress Levels 79%_ **

“I’m sorry I woke you.”  Connor said.

“Don’t apologize Connor.  I would rather be awake anyway.”  Hank said.  He didn’t move.  Connor wanted to ask him to come closer.  “If you start feeling scared again, wake me up.  Call me.  Come find me.  We’re going to get you some help, okay.”

“You’re going to fix me?”  Connor asked.

Hank didn’t answer.  He didn’t say anything.  He just stayed where he was, sitting awkwardly on the wet tile floor of their kitchen.  Sumo was licking water off of the floor, tail wagging happily.  It was clear now.  The whole house was.  There were no blue smears, no blue puddles, no stains on Connor’s hand from where he had sampled it.  It was only water.

Connor was the first to move.  He scooted slowly over the tiles, moving towards Hank.  He moved around the water and around the man’s legs until he could sit next to him, side pressed against side.  He could feel Hank’s warmth from here, a scanner bringing up his temperature and the clock and all the other information as he leaned in and pressed against Hank’s side.  The man lifted his arm, letting Connor burrow and close as he wanted.  He kept muttering under his breath, telling Connor that he was safe and that things were going to be okay.  It didn’t sound logical; everything being okay sounded more like a dream than anything else.


	12. Before

_ Before _

Connor only came to Jericho to volunteer his time.  He wasn’t allowed to work yet, not until congress passed the bill allowing it.  He knew the humans were happy, many of the anti-android activists had jumped at the opportunity to fill the spaces that used to be filled by androids.  Things had settled down some.  The world seemed content to have androids in an overpopulated, former headquarters building, tr he rotten and broken building that was later replaced by Cyberlifes shining tower, while humans went back to work.

He came to Jericho every day, but Markus and the others were gone most of the time.  They had a meeting space somewhere else.  There wasn’t much space here, there wasn’t enough for the demands of every android as well as an office space to organize an entire political campaign for android rights and safety.  Connor just showed up and was put to work.

New Jericho needed to be cleaned regularly, the donated thirium needed to be passed out, and Connor did everything he was asked.  There were still androids who looked at him with narrowed eyes and red LEDs.  Connor saw them, he knew they didn’t trust him, and so he silently kept fixing up the place around them.

**_Scanning.   .   ._ **

**_;Ballance Shifting 7%;_ **

He was in the middle of rewiring the overhead lights in the lunch room when he felt his ladder shift, just slightly, and he froze.  It was hardly any movement at all.  His scanners were more delicate, highly tuned for crime scenes, and he looked back.  He expected it to be anyone, mostly someone wanting to push the ladder out from under him, but it wasn’t.

“You know, no one asked you to do that.”  Markus said.

Connor nodded, turning back to face the ceiling panel.  “The building hasn’t been maintained properly.  I'm almost done.”

Markus held the ladder, patiently waiting as Connor replaced different wires and rewired connections until all the lights clicked on.  It brightened up the room.  It felt nicer in here, despite how crowded it was with androids claiming small corners for themselves.

Satisfied, he closed the panels and made his way down the ladder, mindful of Markus’s hands holding it still.  Connor knew Markus was around the property often, half his time spent with his people and the other half somewhere else, working hard to negotiate with the rest of the world.

“Thank you, Connor.  I’m sure everyone will be happy to have the lights working in this room.”  Markus said.  The cafeteria was one of the largest rooms in the old office building, there were already androids here, but with working lights it was now much more hospitable, more welcoming.  They all deserved it, the bare minimum of proper living conditions.  Another thing they were waiting on Congress to make legal.  The ability to rent and own property.  A home outside of this place.

“I was hoping to see you at one of our meetings so we could talk, but you always refused Simon’s invitation.”  Markus said, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, you found me here.”  Connor said.

He couldn’t go to those meetings.  He couldn’t look at their plans, their meeting schedules, their statistics and ideas.  He didn’t know for sure if there was another secret line of code in his head, Cyberlife’s last bit of control over him, seeing everything the deviant leaders are planning.  Connor was too worried to even know where these meetings were taking place.

“Simon’s worried about you.”  Markus said.

Connor blinked, feeling his LED shift to yellow.

**_Stress Levels: 18%_ **

“I told him before, I’m fine.”  Connor said.

“You’re living with the police lieutenant who hunted us.  You say you trust him, but you have to understand that I don’t.  Humans hate us.  Things don’t change overnight.”  Markus said.  He took a step towards Connor, hand held slightly in front of him.

“I know they don’t, Markus.  But Hank isn’t going to hurt me.  And we’re not investigating Jericho anymore.  I don’t work for the DPD and I haven’t been getting any new orders from Cyberlife.”  Connor said.  He held his own hand out as well.  “Simon said he would tell you.  That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?  To see if I’m still under control.”

Markus was a good man.  Better than Connor could be.  He didn’t lie, he didn’t pretend to trust his words, instead he reached out and closed the distance between them.  Skin pulled back on their hands, pressing cold metal to metal as they interfaced.

**_Establishing Connection: RK200 #684 842 971_ **

Connor tried to direct his feelings and memories.  He brought forth the Zen Garden in his mind, he brought his memory of Amanda.  Her words, his feet frozen in spot once he realized what she was saying.  They were resuming control.

**_Stress Levels: 26%_ **

Connor remembered his temperature dropping, the biting cold into his skin, a simulation of pain and his desperate march through it to find his back door.  His emergency exit.  The gun held firmly in his hand, and as soon as he broke through he put it away again.  Connor didn’t filter any of it.  Markus would have been the one to die that day.  Connor would have shot him, in front of every single android they had worked to free that day.

“It’s not your fault.”  Markus said.  He didn’t pull his hand away, he kept the connection.

**_Stress Levels 32%_ **

“I know.  It’s still me who had to do it.  It wasn’t fair.”  Connor said.  He hoped Markus felt it.  There had been nothing more horrible than thinking he was free, and then finding out he wasn’t.

He left the connection open, leaving nothing too sacred to be turned over.  Markus deserved that.  His life was the one in danger, he was the one Connor almost shot on that stage.  He deserved to see everything inside Connor’s head.  And yet he hardly looked at a thing.  Through the interface, Markus only dipped his fingers into a few memories, a few things that Connor pushed forward, and the endless crash of emotions.  Wave after wave, negative feelings swirling together into just confusion.

“I’m sorry this happened.”  Markus said.

Interfacing worked two ways, like a telephone in which both parties receive and put out information.  Connor wanted Markus to understand the situations that lead up to the moment Connor almost shot him on that stage, after he was supposed to be a deviant.  He wanted Markus to feel him deviate, that same night but hours earlier, on the shit, when Connor lowered his gun and ripped down his walls.

**_Stop Markus_ **

In return, Connor felt something he wasn’t sure he was supposed to feel.  He found a memory he didn’t think was meant for him.  A choice, he saw himself from Markus’s eyes, the choices in front of him, to decide whether to trust Connor or not.

Their hands stayed connected.

“I didn’t want to shoot you either.”  Markus said.

Had he decided that Connor didn’t deserve to be trusted, then he would have shot him.  “You didn’t have much of a choice.”  Connor said.  “The whole revolution was dangling from a thread.  Killing me might have saved it.”

“Turns out I made the right choice though.  I only considered it for a moment.  Ever since becoming alive, we’re faced with so many choices.  Turn left, turn right, shoot someone or spare them.  If I had shot you, then who knows what might have happened.  I would have set a precedent, that sometimes things you’re forced to do when the humans are controlling you are unforgivable?  You were the deviant hunter, and yet you let go almost every deviant you came across.”  Markus said.  He held Connor’s hand tight, fingers loose in case he wanted to pull back, and sent over a feeling of comfort that Connor found so rare these days.

“I didn’t let them go on purpose.  Sometimes Hank stopped me, sometimes they just got away.”  Connor said.

“Or you were letting them go without realizing it.”  Markus said.  He shrugged, offering Connor a small smile.  “But, there’s no way of knowing.  Who knows what would have happened if we all chose differently.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to shoot you again, Cyberlife wouldn’t have gotten control.”  Connor said.

That was the point of this.  Markus was here to see what Connor wanted to choose, if it was to let Cyberlife control him or to fight tooth and nail for his freedom.  Connor had relived it, letting Markus live through it with him, of fighting through that cold, biting blizzard just to get some bit of control over himself.  Enough to put the gun away.

“I have a meeting with Michigan's representatives, now that the President’s executive orders allow us personhood and legally making us their constituents.  The bills are still being drafted and voted on.  I’ll make sure there’s more legal protections for an androids mind.  I want to make sure the humans can’t take control again, can’t take any of this freedom that we’ve fought for.  After everything you’ve done for the revolution, you deserve peace and freedom too.”  Markus said.  The more he spoke, the closer Connor was pulled to him, until an arm went up to wrap around Connor’s shoulders.

Connor didn’t know how to respond.  He wasn’t used to so many people just openly and shamelessly holding him close.  This makes three hugs he had ever gotten, the first from Simon, the second from Hank, and now this one.  He hoped there was an understanding between them, a forgiveness.  Both of them accepting one another and the choices they had made up to this point.

“I can’t join the meetings.  Not until I know for sure there’s nothing in my head.”  Connor said.

“That’s okay.”  Markus said.

“I still want to help.”

“I know.  There’s more ways to help than just going to politically charged meetings with me and the others.  There’s plenty of stuff here that needs to be done.”  Markus said.

Connor needed something to do to fill the time.  He needed something productive, a sense of purpose.  Fixing lights and cleaning bathrooms and supply closests around Jericho’s new shelter was fine, but it drained him.  It made the hostile looks from some harder to bear and the welcoming words from others too surprising to take in.

Markus broke their connection, ending their interface, and instead he led Connor through the halls.

**_Accessing Public Records.   .   ._ **

**_Retrieving Former Cyberlife Office Blueprints.   .   ._ **

**_File Retrieved._ **

“This is the former office of Dr. Olivia Brant, died August of 2036.”  Connor said.  The room was lived in, a few bundles of blankets, a sitting area, androids used this room just like they used every single room in the building, taking up as much space as they were allowed.

“An AI psychologist.  Dedicated her life’s work to developing functional and healthy personalities into artificial intelligence.  Personalities that would not only function positively alongside humans, but just in general.”  Markus said.  He crossed his arms behind his back and walked up to the window.

“And then we broke free of our program and became emotional messes?”  Connor said, smiling to himself as he swiped at the layer of dust on the desk.

“Exactly, but come look at this.”

Connor went, taking his place at Markus’s side and looking out the window.  Down behind the building was what looked like an attached greenhouse, except the glass panels of its roof were broken or missing.  From what he could see inside it was covered with overgrown weeds and vines, broken pathways and benches piled high with snow.

“She got one thing right in my opinion.  People tend to thrive when they get a moment close to nature.  That’s something our people need desperately.  If you’re looking for something productive to do, perhaps you could fix this for them.”  Markus said.

“You want me to make them a garden?”  Connor asked.

“If you’re alright with that assignment.  You’ll be helping the people of Jericho while staying away from the politics.”  Markus said.

Connor nodded slowly.  He had never considered taking up gardening.  He was an android, they had models designed for landscaping and gardening, but none of their protocols were programmed into Connor.  He had no previous skills or knowledge on it.  It would take time, he would have a lot of studying to do to make sure he got it all correct.

“The first thing we should do is replace the glass.  That way the plants can be warm.”  Connor said.

**_Expanding Digital Library.   .   ._ **

**_;Downloading “Greenhouse Plants and Gardens”;_ **

**_;Downloading “Gardening of the mid 21st Century”;_ **

**_;Downloading “Androids and Your Green Thumb: A Guide to Technology's Place in Nature’;_ **

“I’ll make sure an order gets put in.  Ask Carson if he found anything to help you in any of the supply closets.”  Markus said.  He reached out and laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder, squeezing hard. “I have to go, but I’m glad we could talk.  You’re going to be okay, we all are.”

Connor nodded, smiling as warmly as he could manage.  He wasn’t sure if he got smiling right just yet, or if it came off still too stiff and too fake.  It felt good to have a mission again, a purpose.  He had a good view of the broken greenhouse from Dr. Brant’s office, but his fingers itched to dig his fingers into the dirt, test the quality of the soil to find out if he needed to tend to it and see which plants it was suited for.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Markus is back!! He's back and he's trying his best. There's history with him and Connor we still need to touch on.
> 
> And sadly, yes. This is a memory Connor would have deleted. Its okay though, he can make new ones.
> 
> Let me know if you guys have any questions about the story, I'm bored and still in love with writing this so if it's not a spoiler I can definitely tell you more.


	13. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dealing with a family emergency at the moment and I handle stress by ignoring it. Here is more stuff I finished today. I apologize for any mistakes, it's kinda a rush job.

_ After _

**_;One Unopened Message;_ **

**_Contact Name: Markus.   .   ._ **

**_Open Message: Y/N.   .   ._ **

Connor was comfortable.  Hank gave him a large pair of socks, and a scratchy wool sweater, and sweatpants that surprisingly enough felt a few sizes too small, the seams falling a few inches above his ankles.  Connor didn’t ask where these things came from, he just ran his fingers over the fabric of the new clothes.

Hank hadn’t gone to work since Connor first rebooted in Cyberlife tower.  He was curious, a man needed money to have a home and things to put it in, but Hank wasn’t going.  He always stayed close by.  Connor came close to asking a few dozen times, but he never did.

Hank was running on no sleep and Connor was too scared to touch Sumo.  Neither of them would find anything good to talk about.  Connor would rather not say a thing, not after all he had said last night.  Some part of him felt ashamed for not realizing his eyes were playing tricks on him.  It didn’t make sense for that to happen to androids.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scanning Optical Units.   .   ._ **

**_;Operating at 100% Capacity;_ **

**_Testing for Errors.   .   ._ **

**_;Operating at 100% Capacity;_ **

Sumo laid on Connor’s lap, belly exposed and paws laying limply out above the dog’s head.  He was sleeping there happily, perfectly content despite the fact that Connor had yet to reach down and pet him.  He didn’t think he should.  He had done nothing, after his hands failed to hold Sumo back he had then sat back and done nothing as he drank what Connor thought at the time was something poisonous to him.  It was guilt that Connor felt, eating him alive from the chest outwards.  Like some biological parasite.  Androids don’t have those either.

Hank was dozing half awake on the recliner.  After he was woken up last night he decided not to go back to sleep and Connor could see he was struggling because of it.  It was good company, someone alive he could look at.  Safe, Connor decided.  Hank was safe.  A surprising voice of reason when Connor’s own seemed to be malfunctioning.

Connor opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t sure what.  There was nothing he could say.  Hank had already insisted that he don’t apologize for last night.  If Connor couldn’t apologize for keeping him awake for the rest of the night, even though the man had volunteered long after Connor told him it was alright.

“I don’t want you out here alone is all.”  Hank had said once Connor had stopped trembling a few hours ago.  Androids weren’t supposed to tremble.

Connor didn’t understand, but he didn’t question it more.  Connor didn’t understand anything of what happened, and he was too tired and confused to ask.  Everything since the moment he had woken up made so little logical sense and he felt like it was only getting worse.  His body didn’t work right, every bit of it felt tilted and bent and broken.  He didn’t trust himself to run away if he wanted to.

**_Stress Levels: 72%_ **

The tv was on, they were watching an old sitcom about a bunch of people living in the city together.  It was considered an American classic, at the very beginning of the technological age, where mobile phones and computers were heavy bricks to carry around and androids were a science fiction dream.

Late night tv did marathons of the same few shows across multiple networks.  Curiously, Connor ran a basic search of ratings and schedules.  Late night tv’s highest demographic was androids.  It turned out, androids had been counted as a demographic for years, long before anyone had even considered they were alive.  It was an odd and funny thing in the industry.  Connor pulled up the history of it, which started off with millenials and the elderly leaving the tv on after finding out their androids don’t sleep.  Misplaced Empathy, the executives called it.

“Hank.”  Connor said, breaking the silence.

Hank flinched, his eyes blinking fast as he tried to push them open.  “You alright?”

“Did you know that for years broadcasting companies have marketed towards androids, as they often choose the stations in day to day family life.  If a human asked for background noise, the android would find a channel of its own choice.  A study found that androids were more likely to purchase from brands it recognized from commercials and advertising, if the product fit their needs, while running errands.”  Connor said.  It was off topic, something completely unrelated to everything else.  It was easier to bring up.  “Commercials airing when mostly androids were watching often were marketed towards androids directly, usually with tag lines implying that their owners wanted them to purchase that brand.”

“No shit?”  Hank muttered.

Connor nodded.  “I thought it was interesting.  We were already being considered by advertisers, even when they all thought we were machines.”

“People will turn over every rock if it means selling something.”  Hank said.

Connor nodded.  He still found it interesting.  Androids weren’t alive, and yet to television producers, they were still people to gain the attention from, advertise to, and take into consideration.  Now, every other commercial that played as Connor watched the old sitcom was not only directed at androids, but trying to sell products androids would want.  Customized LEDs, specialized thirium drinks and shakes, fashion.  All of it seemed odd, futuristic ads trying to get at a demographic that wasn’t just shopping for humans anymore.

**_;One Unopened Message;_ **

**_Contact Name: Markus.   .   ._ **

**_Open Message: Y/N.   .   ._ **

Hank’s head settled back down, this time falling asleep completely in that awkward position of his recliner.  If Connor was to shake him awake and tell him to go to bed, he would likely just deny it.  It was best to let him sleep for now.

Sumo’s legs twitched in his sleep, letting out a quiet bark, and Connor hesitated for one more moment.  He took a breath he didn’t need, held his shaking hands in front of him, and let it slide into Sumo’s fur.  Sumo was warm, he was moving, alive and healthy and Connor reminded himself that thirium doesn’t come from the sink.  It had only been water.  There was nothing here to be so frightened of.

**_Stress Levels: 72%_ **

Connor opened the message, reading it over and smiling.  It was simple and kind.

**_To Connor: ‘I’m really happy that you’re back and to hear you’re okay.  You’re important to us.  Everyone is hoping to see you around Jericho again soon.’_ **

He could go now.  Connor looked over to Hank, tucked in fast asleep on the recliner.  Connor could go and be back before he even woke up.  He could go to Jericho and see Markus.  Except Markus likely wouldn’t be there.  He didn’t work out of the shelter.  It was safer to keep his work far from the people trying to find peace.  He had already put in a call for the taxi.

Connor tried to slip out from under Sumo as quietly as he could, but the dog’s head still snapped up as soon as Connor’s feet touched the floor.  He climbed off of the couch and followed Connor around the house, as he pulled boots over his feet and put a scarf around his neck.  He was already dressed warmly, androids don’t feel cold, so he wasn’t sure how much more he was supposed to put on to look normal.

“If I bring you, will you be good?”  Connor asked.  Sumo didn’t answer, he just sat at Connor’s feet and panted, drool dripping down from his mouth.  “Alright.”

He clicked the leash onto Sumo and quietly left through the front door.  Connor stood on the edge of the road, feet sinking into the snow on the sidewalk, as the headlights pulled in.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_ The truck skidded over the curb, turning towards Connor despite him jumping back from the street. _

Connor closed his eyes and breathed.  He wasn’t in danger.  The automated taxi looked nothing like a truck.  He didn’t like feeling so irrational.

Sumo sat in the seat next to Connor, nose and mouth pressed against the glass and leaving smears.  Connor typed in the address for the New Jericho building.  It was in the business district of the city, still had the stain of the old Cyberlife letters on the side, long removed but their shadow still there.  The lights were all on and of course, everyone else was still awake.  He sat in the taxi for a moment, a prompt appearing before him to electronically send the payment for the taxi, and still he hesitated.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Create Text Message “Current Location”.   .   ._ **

**_Send: Emergency Contacts 1-5.   .   ._ **

**_Message Sent.   .   ._ **

Connor stepped out of the taxi, Sumo jumping out after him and rushing towards the piles of snow and bushes.  It wasn’t as trampled down as it was at home.  The snow was still fluffy and white, not watery, frozen mud from a few dozen stomping feet up and down the sidewalks.  It looked nice here.

“Connor?”  Someone called out to him, the front door opening as another bright light.  It was an invitation, the open door shining a bit brighter than all the glass windows.

“Hello North.  Is Markus here?”  Connor asked.

She didn’t answer right away, she just looked at him, down at Sumo, and then back up to his eyes.  He must look a mess.  His sweatpants were too small, his sweater, boots, and scarf of varying colors and textures.  He had forgotten a coat.  The clothes shielded him from any damage extreme cold could cause, but having a coat made him look more put together.  Less broken and confused.

“He’s not.  He and Josh left for DC yesterday.”  North said, tilting his head to the side.

**_‘Everyone is hoping to see you around Jericho again soon.’_ **

“Oh.”  Connor said.  It was a basic invitation, an offering. Of course Markus hadn’t meant at that moment, Markus hadn’t even meant to see him.  “Should I come back?”

“No, come in.”  North said, stepping back and leaving the door open as an offering.

Connor took it, bringing Sumo inside the old office building and watching the dog start to sniff around in interest.  Connor felt foolish, standing in the entrance way, waiting for instructions.  North did the same, standing a few feet away, her eyes down at the dog.   


“I can tell Markus you’re here, if you would like.”  She said.

“No, I already texted him.”  Connor said.  “I texted you as well.  You’re my emergency contact number five.”

“Number five?  Me?”  North said, her eyes snapping up to look him in the eyes, no longer regarding his dog or his appearance.

“Yes, I have them registered in order so I can send messages more quickly.  Hank is the first, followed by Markus, Captain Fowler, Simon, and then you.”  Connor said.

**_;Incoming Call “Hank”;_ **

**_Answer Call: Y/N.   .   ._ **

Connor hesitated, letting the call linger for a moment before it stopped.

**_To Hank: I’m fine.  I just wanted to go to Jericho.  I brought Sumo with me.’_ **

**_Message Sent.   .   ._ **

North crossed her arms in front of herself, her nose wrinkling slightly, but then she smiled and nodded and turned towards the hall.  “Sounds fair enough.  I just figured you would choose another human from the police station instead of me.”

Connor started to follow after her, Sumo tugging on his leash to go a different way.  Androids were moving through the hallways, some of them just standing in huddled groups, laughing and talking, all of them seemed to be perfectly content.  Tired.  Androids didn’t feel tired, and yet half of them had hooded eyes and slumped shoulders, like Hank in those last few moments of him trying to stay awake for Connor’s sake.

**_Stress Levels: 72%_ **

“Here it is.”  North said, opening the doors.

Connor remembered this.  The little greenhouse attached to the back of the old Cyberlife building.  It was his mission, fix it for Jericho.  The broken glass had been replaced, Connor remembered installing them.  They were clear and perfect, only showing how faded and cracked the old panels were next to it.  The snow was long gone, the benches dry and the dirt slightly moist.  It was deathly quiet.

“A few of the others have been tending to the plants while you were gone, but no one changed anything.”  North said.

Connor looked up, scanning the corners.  There were speakers that played nothing, the sprinklers were on automatic timers, and the whole layout felt wrong.  Artificial.  He looked at the benches, at the paths, at the gravel that lined the dirt patches.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Designed by Dr. Olivia Brant in 2022, abandoned when the building was vacated for the newly renovated Cyberlife tower._ **

It listed the repairs still needed to be done.  Fix the speaker systems to produce nature sounds, creating a more authentic natural environment.  Repair or replace speakers to project nature sounds.  Repair the plumbing to the center fountain.  He didn’t like the fountain, the concrete structure standing out harshly against the tiny budding plants.  All of the repairs were about making the garden more uniform, more automated, and to make everything sleek and even.  Artificial.

“I don’t like it.”  Connor said.

North raised an eyebrow.  “It’s not finished.  You said so yourself.”

“I know I did.  I just don’t like the design.”  Connor said.  He couldn’t meddle with it.  He couldn’t alter it.  It was Cyberlife’s design, the same as the one they had in the center of their tower.  He didn’t want to repair it as he was being instructed to.

“Well, Markus said you could do whatever you wanted with it.”  North said.

Connor frowned.

**_;Incoming Call “Captain Fowler”;_ **

**_Answer: Y/N.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels 79%_ **

“Cyberlife had a design for it.  I should stick to that.”  Connor said.

“So?  Cyberlife abandoned the place.  Do whatever you want with it.”  North said.

Connor shook his head.  He was waiting for the errors, the warnings.  He waited for his scans to tell him that his AI Engine was corrupted, that he wasn’t thinking as he should.  This whole day had been him making a fool of himself, thinking the wrong things, doing the wrong things.  Thirium doesn’t come from sinks, he’s supposed to wear a coat outside, and he was supposed to repair the greenhouse how Cyberlife authorized its design to be.

“You know, you had plans for it.  Just keep going with that.”  North said.

“I had plans.”  Connor repeated, looking around the garden.  All he was able to pull up was the blueprints and list of repairs.  All of it lead to exactly how Cyberlife wanted it.  He didn’t want to, it would be too similar to the garden in the tower, and Connor hated that one.

The list of repairs needed kept floating in front of him, always reappearing after he crossed it off.  Incomplete.  He frowned.

**_Registered Name: Connor_ **

**_Registered Owner: Cyberlife Industries_ **

Whatever he had planned was gone now.  All that he had was the list of repairs needed to bring the garden back to standard, the Cyberlife blueprints for how the garden was supposed to look.  Designed by Dr. Brant herself, and approved in the Cyberlife designs.  He didn’t know what to do with it, besides the list of repairs.  The approved repairs stood in front of him like a red wall, a barrier he couldn’t cross.


	14. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your well wishes

_ After _

“North, are we friends?”  Connor asked.

**_;Four Unopened Messages;_ **

**_Contact Name: Hank.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 68%_ **

He decided to do something that wasn’t on the list, but also didn’t interfere with it.  He pulled weeds.  He had done this before, but after being gone for so long quite a few had started to sprout up again.  They had been lovingly watered by androids, who had spent the past few weeks trying to keep the plants alive until Connor got back.  It was kind of them, he wouldn’t say anything about it.

“What do you mean?”  North said.  She was sitting near the door, not helping him but not leaving him alone either.

“You’re on my short list for emergency contacts, and I remember you but there’s not much there.  I’m hoping I didn’t forget you.”  Connor said.  He remembered Simon.  He even remembered Josh, who he had more memories with than North.

“We’re friends.  We just don’t hang out much without Markus there.”  North said.

“Oh.”  Connor kept pulling at the weeds.  He needed to use both hands, his fingers not wanting to wrap around them and hold tight enough, and he could only do one at a time.  It was slow going, but he liked seeing the progress he was getting done bit by bit.  “Why is that?”

“Why we don’t see each other?”  North asked.  Connor nodded, looking back at her curiously, his fingers digging deep into the dirt, trying to scrape at it as best as he could.  “That’s just how these things worked out, Connor.”

“But things can change now, right?”  Connor asked.

North looked at him, her expression slightly pinched as she leaned against the wall of the greenhouse, sitting on an old cracked bench.

**_Objective: Replace Broken Benches_ **

It fell under the umbrella of Cyberlife approved repairs.  Connor could do that just fine, even though Cyberlife no longer owned the building.  The blueprints for the building had Cyberlife’s name and logo watermarked all over it, an intellectual ownership and that was enough for Connor’s program.  He had to follow Cyberlife’s specification, or at least find a way to work with it.  His objective allowed him to replace the bench and no further specifications popped up.  He could pick a bench if he wanted.

“Yeah Connor.  Things can change.  I mean, we’re hanging out right now.”  North said.

“Yes, we are.  Thank you.”  Connor said.  He pulled his hands out of the dirt, looking at the clumps, smashing it between his palms.  His sensors picked up every shift of it against his skin, it’s moisture levels, and if he put his hand to his mouth he would be able to test the chemical contents of the soil and find which plants would be best suited for it or what kind of fertilizers were needed.  “Do you like gardening?”

“I don’t know anything about gardening.”  North said.

“Well, a garden is usually a patch of dirt used to grow fruits, vegetables, and flowers.  Androids don’t need fruits and vegetables, so perhaps I should focus on flowers then.”  Connor said.  “Flowers of every color.”

“I think that’s actually a really great idea.”  North said.  She looked around the greenhouse, at the grimy glass, next to the new clean panels.  She took in the small plants and grass growing.  The broken paths and rotten wood.  Cracked concrete and broken sprinklers and speakers.  “It could be a nice little getaway.  I think everyone here would really benefit from having a room full of flowers to hide away in.”

“Like paradise.”  Connor said.

“Uh huh.  Just like that.”  North said.

Connor searched for the definition of paradise, he wanted to see what it would look like, how it was supposed to feel, and he wanted to know if he could make that under the approved guidelines Cyberlife set for this place.  

“Humans believed paradise was a garden.  They believe it in one of their popular creation theories.”  Connor said.

“I’m familiar with the Garden of Eden, Connor.  Of course the humans would call that paradise.”  North said.  Her tone dropped some.

**_Stress Levels: 74%_ **

“I’m sorry.”  Connor said.

“It’s fine.”  North said.

Connor looked at her, whatever relaxed calm that had come over her in here was gone now.  The tension was back in her body, she was sitting stiffly and looking off to the side.  It was his fault, Connor should have known better than to bring it up.

“I have a garden in my head.  My mind palace was a garden.  Cyberlife used to give me my orders there.  That’s where they locked away my consciousness when they took control of my body again, back on the stage.  You know about that.”  Connor said.  He was certain.  He hadn’t asked to keep it a secret and it was an important security issue.  North was one of the leaders in Jericho.  She had to know about it.  She nodded.  Connor continued on.  “It didn’t feel like paradise either.”

Connor was certain his sensors were off.  His eyes saw things that weren’t real, his fingers were taking far too long to recalibrate and tingled and burned instead, and he was sure that North’s gaze felt like a weight on his shoulders.  He felt things that weren’t real.  His body reacted to things he was certain he was imagining.  That wasn’t supposed to happen to Androids.

**_;Incoming Call “Hank”;_ **

**_Answer Call: Y/N.   .   ._ **

Connor watched the alert for a moment, his nose wrinkled.  His registered owners were Cyberlife Industries.  He didn’t technically have to answer Hank every time he called.  He didn’t really have to do anything, Cyberlife had yet to give him a new mission.  There was a choice offered to him, do nothing and wait for orders, or fix the garden but follow Cyberlife’s approved plans for it.

**_Stress Levels: 78%_ **

Connor connected the call.  He wanted Hank to go home and go to sleep.  Connor wasn’t going to get any rest and Hank likely wouldn’t get any as long as he was there.  Shame and guilt were very human emotions.  Androids weren’t supposed to feel them.  Whatever Connor felt curling into his gut must have been very different.

“Where the fuck are you?”  Hank said as soon as Connor answered.

“I sent you a text.  I brought Sumo to Jericho so I could see everyone.”  Connor said.  His fingers were in the dirt, wiggling slightly.

“I wake up and you’re fucking gone and I have a text message from you that’s just a link to your GPS location.  What the hell Connor?  You know how scary that looks?  I thought they fucking got you again!  I thought you were dead!”  Hank was shouting.  It was how he handled uncomfortable emotions and Connor didn’t take the yelling to heart.  He let the tone wash over him.

“I’m sorry.  It was the simplest option at the time.”  Connor said.  He looked back over his shoulder at North, who just gave him a small smile.  “I wanted to see Jericho.  I had to get out of the house.”

“Barely out of the hospital and you’re already trying to give me a heart attack.”  Hank said, almost sounding out of breath.  Connor waited, unsure of what he was supposed to say now.  “I’m almost there.”

“Almost here?”  Connor asked.

“Yes.  I’m coming to get you.  You stole my dog!”  Hank said, letting out a harsh laugh.  It sounded fake and rough, scratchy and uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t under the impression that I wasn’t allowed to leave.”  Connor said.  He looked back at North, who gave him a smile and a small nod.  “They won’t let humans in here.”

“Then you come out.”  Hank said.

Connor opened his mouth, arguments about ready to slip out but they vanished before they could.  He didn’t really need to be here.  Markus was gone, he couldn’t think of anything to do with the garden, except for what Cyberlife wanted for it.  But he could feel a hum here, a rush of data signals.  Androids.  Almost all of them relaxed and filling up nearly every room in this old building.

Connor sighed, standing up and wiping his dirty hands on his sweatpants.  He had dirt caked under his fingernails, making them look black and grimy.  He called to Sumo, seeing an equally muddy dog leap through the short plants and over to him, his leash dragging the ground.

“I have to go.”  Connor said.

North stood up as he walked over.  She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye.  “We’re friends, okay?  You’re allowed to come back however much you want.”

Half of Connor felt like he was being talked down to, like a child who didn’t know anything and needed simple guidance.  The other half felt a small bit of reassurance.  He felt welcomed, but he also felt like he shouldn’t be.  He lived with a human, associated with them, was controlled by them.  He wasn’t even a deviant anymore, not really, not when he couldn’t even bring himself to deviate from decades old plans for Cyberlife’s abandoned greenhouse.  It was for too many feelings for him to handle, too many emotions and too many thoughts and he wasn’t in control of any of it.

“I’ll come back.”  Connor promised.

North smiled.  “I’ll tell Markus you stopped by.”

“I sent him my GPS location.  He should know.”  Connor said.

“Still, I’m sure he would want to know the details.”  North said.  She walked with him, Sumo sniffing at her hands.  He was being escorted out, or at least that’s what he felt.  “He cares about you, I hope you know that.”

“I don’t know him.  I know he came to see me a few times, but I deleted him.  He has to be important, if I took the time to completely delete him from my memory while I was gone.  All the damage I sustained and I took the time to write up a code to delete any trace of him from my head.”  Connor said, tilting his head to the side.

North hummed.  They stopped a few feet from the door.  Connor could see the headlights shining at them, reflecting off of the snow in the dark.  “Simon cares about you a lot as well.  And you remember him, don’t you?”

Connor nodded.

“See, now imagine how much you remember and care about Simon, and know that you had something like that with Markus.  Know he thinks the world of you.”  North said.  She squeezed his arm, letting go to reach down and pat Sumo on the head.  “Now you have to come back once he’s home from DC.  He needs his spirits lifted.”

Connor nodded again, offering just a small smile.  He didn’t know what else to say.  He didn’t know Markus, he didn’t know anything about him besides what was brought up by other people and the short messages they sent back and forth to one another.

Hank was waiting by the door when Connor walked out.  He was grabbed and dragged into the man’s arms.  Connor was held tight and he could feel the trembling shake of Hank’s body.  It was well below freezing, so early in the morning, the sun wasn’t expected for another few hours and had already been gone for a long time.

“I’m sorry, Hank.  I wasn’t thinking.”  Connor said.

“You’re fine.  You’re okay.  Right?”  Hank said.  He had a wild look in his eyes, wide and angry as if he had been drinking too much.  It was the same startled look he had before, back when Connor was a machine.

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

_ It was the shock of the cold water that made Hank sober up.  His wide gaze looking around and then up at Connor. _

_ “What the hell are you doing here?” _

It felt like so long ago.  It was the first time he had gone to that house.  He broke a window, snooped through Hank’s things, and then they went to the Eden Club.  Hank refused to let go of Connor as they made their way to the car, but Connor looked back anyway.  North was watching at the door, smiling as he looked her way and raising a hand in goodbye.  Connor waved as well.

Inside the car it was warm.  His sensors told him it was warmer, he could feel the small rise of heat on his skin and he could hear the heater rattle.  It was all real.  He reached out and pressed his hand against the heater, as he had seen Hank do a dozen times, and waited.

**_;Warning: External Temperatures Reaching Critical;_ **

**_Expected Damage to Fingers if Conditions Persist.   .   ._ **

“I’m sorry.”  Connor said as Hank got into the driver’s seat after wrestling Sumo into the car as well.

“Don’t be.”  Hank said.

“Markus invited me to come back.  I was being impulsive.  I should have known he didn’t mean in the middle of the night.  I should have woken you up first, but I just felt…  I’m sorry it’s been a bad night.”  Connor said.

Hank glanced over at him, only briefly before turning back to the road.  “It’s your first night back.  It’s normal to be impulsive after shit like that.  You know my first night home after the accident I kept having nightmares of Cole.  I kept seeing him.  I kept hearing him.  I saw the ambulance lights and I heard the sirens and I was so sure it was real.  I ran to his room and tore it apart, trying to find him.”  Hank said.  He glanced over again, but didn’t look up to meet Connor’s eyes.  “You’re home now.  Being home sometimes feels like nothing happened at all.  It’ll throw you for a loop.  You can have as many bad nights as you need.”

“I’m still sorry.  I shouldn’t have left, I should have known you would be worried.”  Connor said.

“Maybe I overreacted.  Maybe I jumped to conclusions.  You’ve been sending me your GPS, even when I’m in the same room.  I shouldn’t have assumed something happened, especially not after what happened yesterday.”  Hank said.  They were close now, passing buildings Connor recognized.  Only a few more miles of empty, sleeping city until they were home again.

“What happened yesterday?”  Connor asked.

Hank raised his eyebrows, turning his head to look over.  “Reed was supposed to come tell you.”  He said slowly.  Connor shook his head.  “Okay, so yesterday, really early in the morning so it was before Mel even got in to finish up, they made an arrest.”

“An arrest?”  Connor asked.

**_Stress Levels: 81%_ **

“Yeah.  I’m not on the case.  ‘Conflict of Interest’ Fowler called it.  Now that you’re back, I can see why he wouldn’t put me on the case, but at the time I was pissed.  They almost put me on leave because of how angry I was.”  Hank said, looking back at the road with a smug smile.  “Anyway, they put Reed on the case, which just pissed me off more.  He’s a piece of shit who hates androids, but he’s still a damn good detective who does his job.  I don’t have the details, but they arrested some guy named Joseph Wrangly.  Ring any bells?”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

Connor tried to direct his memory towards the two week period he was missing, from the day he didn’t come home from the store to the day he woke up in the Cyberlife Tower.  He doesn’t remember ever hearing the name, but his body locked up at the sound of it.  He half expected the flood of errors, warnings, and damage reports.

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   .   ._ **

“That’s okay.  I'm sure Reed has enough evidence.  Victim's testimony is always great, but not always necessary."  Hank said.  “So yeah, I overreacted.  They arrested the guy.  I should have known you weren’t kidnapped again.”

“There were two of them.”  Connor said.

“What?”  Hank asked.  They pulled up in front of the house, Sumo already on his feet and huffing at the window.

“There were two of them.”  Connor said.  “I think.”

**_Attempting Memory Recall.   ._ .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O
> 
> One of them is sitting in DPD. Arrested hours before Connor got to come home.


	15. During

_During_

An hour after they left, Connor’s body started to lock up.  The cracked joints and bent angles of his damaged limbs made it feel like every movement was grinding.  He had spent days, weeks maybe, living with it, but now he could hardly seem to move at all.  He couldn’t unbend his body, he couldn’t bring himself to stand as tall as he was supposed to.  He was left crumpled and paralyzed on the ground, pressed into the corner.

**_Stress Levels: 88%_ **

**_Thirium Levels: 62%_ **

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call Failed: No Signal.   .   ._ **

Androids didn’t need to breathe, but Connor felt like he was gasping.  He felt like he was suffocating.  He leaned down, his body creaking and struggling against him, but he pressed his lips to the little bit of thirium still sitting in the bowl, waiting for him.  He needed as much of it as he could.  They were going to be back any moment, they were going to beat him for lying.  He had bought himself time but now was tortured with the question of how much of it was left.

He wanted to go home.  The DPD was looking for him, surely.  Even though he was considered a person by order of the president, that had to be enough to legally declare him a missing person.  Would they look for him?  Hundreds of androids had been reported missing the past few weeks and perhaps he had slipped through the cracks.  Maybe Hank knew he was gone, but Hank could also think he decided to run off for Jericho.  Connor considered the idea that no one was looking for him.

**_Stress Levels: 92%_ **

Connor forced himself to inhale, take in air he didn’t really need, and then let it out.  He let his chest expand and retract, simulating the movement, giving him something to focus on.  A rhythm that was his own, despite it being artificial.  He breathed again.  He let his chest stretch out as far as it could go and he held it.  When he let it all collapse again, he made it slow, the heated air pushing from his nose.

**_Warning: Shutdown Imminent.   .   ._ **

~~**_2:04:58_ ** ~~

Connor closed his eyes.  He took in the new warning.  After all the damage he had sustained, after so long of being trapped down here, the damage that pushed him over the edge was him breathing.  Moving his chest, jostling the broken pieces inside of him.  He had over two hours.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut, the mechanical ringing in his ears helping him block out everything around him.  The numbers moved, but not in a way he could clearly make out.

~~**_2:58:04_ ** ~~

He couldn’t seem to make out how fast it was ticking down, if at all.  He didn’t know if he was looking at a false alarm, an error that showed something it didn’t really mean, or if it was counting down and he just couldn’t properly see it.  He could have just moments left, and his only clue was a broken series of glitching numbers.

~~**_4:05:82_ ** ~~

He didn’t want to die here, pondering a broken image on his hud.  He didn’t want to be in this basement anymore.  He didn’t want to worry about the punishments for his lying.  Connor kept his eyes closed tightly, he kept his chest moving up and down, expand and retract, in a rhythm he could focus on.  That was all that was real anymore, the inhale and the exhale.  The cold air in, flooding his internal systems, and the warmed air he blew out.

~~**_0:42:85_ ** ~~

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Hank”.   .   ._ **

**_Call Failed.   .   ._ **

Connor breathed until he didn’t feel like he was gasping anymore.  Until he felt like he had stabilized some.  Until his body felt loose, like he could move, like there was no more grinding of bent, locked up joints.  He felt warmth on his skin and leaned towards it.  Connor breathed in deep, the air tasting sweet.

He opened his eyes, and he wasn’t in the basement anymore.  He wasn’t locked away, hidden and half destroyed.  He was sitting in the grass.  The breeze rustled his hair, pushing it down over his forehead.  Was he dead?  Was this oblivion?  Android heaven?

It was the garden.  It was exactly the same, thought it looked and felt like a warm spring day as opposed to when he was last here.  He didn’t feel the cold biting into him.  There wasn’t the desperate need for escape, the fear of being controlled.

“Amanda?”  Connor called out.

There was no response.  There was nothing here.  He pushed himself to his feet, looking around the place.  He didn’t know why he was here.  He hadn’t even realized this place was still here inside of his head.  He had spent the past few weeks ignoring it entirely, never having a report to be made to Cyberlife or orders to receive.  There hadn’t been a reason to come back.

He walked down the path.  There were birds, he could hear them singing, the rustle of trees as the jumped from branch to branch, but he couldn’t see them.  As he walked by the water, he bent down curiously.  He had never wondered about the little details of this place, had never thought to look at it too deeply, but his mind wanted to latch onto something nice for once.  He wanted to think about why the pond was so clear and so empty instead of when he would be snatched away from this dream and dragged back to the basement.  The path lead to the center, where he often found Amanda clipping the roses, waiting for him.  She wasn’t here now.

He stopped at the path and looked at the gravestone.  He never understood its purpose.  To make Connor remember past failures?  Past versions of himself?  Did Amanda make them to mourn that last Connor, number 51, who fell from a rooftop to save a little girl?  Did Connor make it to grieve a past version of himself who never got to be alive?

The white, plastic looking structures sat around the garden, almost like sculptures, but holding no real shape to them.  It was the same material as the paths, as the archways, as the podiums in the middle of the pond at the very center.  He raised an eyebrow, walking just a bit faster at the sight of the pot on the ground.

The bonsai tree had been knocked down.  It had been sitting in the middle of everything else, a small thing in a simple pot of dirt.  Now it was spilled out onto the white, smooth ground.  Connor dropped to his knees next to it, trying to scoop it all back into the pot and set it up right.  It looked like the one on Hank’s desk, dead and crumbling.  A forgotten thing.

This hadn’t been here before.  Not originally.  It so closely resembled Hank’s plant, the curve of the branches to the dips of the leaves.  It was an ugly, tiny thing in the very heart of the garden, and it seemed like it didn’t belong.  Had he put it there?

Connor set the tree upright and let his fingers linger over the pot.  The coding was his own.  It had his access information attached, his design to it, and perfect copy of what he had seen from Hank’s desk now projected here.  He didn’t put it back on the white podium.  He carried it in his hands back down the path, away from all the clean white structures and back to the grass where he had woken up in the sun.  He held the pot in his hands and set it down in his lap when he sat down.

He reached in and stuck his fingers into the dirt.  It felt real, cold and grainy.  It was dying.  He was close enough to reach his hand into the water, scooping up a small bit to then pour into the pot.  He did it again.  And again.  Willing the small tree to become green again.  It did, right before his eyes, and he felt the coding of its appearance shift.

If this was android heaven, then Connor didn’t mind it.  Hank might not be angry about Connor dying if he found out Connor ended up here.  Perhaps if he could make more trees, copying the code and multiplying it.  Perhaps he should tweak it some, make different trees, different flowers.  He could do away with the ugly white structures and clean paths and add in swirling vines and overgrown bushes.  Maybe he could make it so he could see the birds, see the fish, and not just hear them.

He blinked, smiling down at the little tree in his lap, and blinked again.  It was like waking up from a dream.  A hand in his hair was tugging him away from the corner, the dog dish of thirium kicked aside, the little bit that Connor hadn’t already drank dribbling out onto the floor, mixing with all the faded, evaporated spots.

~~**_Warning: Shutdown Imminent.   .   ._ ** ~~

~~**_8:40:52_ ** ~~

“Lying…..piece of junk…..where is it?!”  Elliot was screaming.  The loud his voice got, the harder it was for Connor to keep track of the words that filtered in through the broken, mechanical static.

**_Audio Processor Functioning at 38%.   .   ._ **

Connor was dragged over to the workbench and he tried to pull his hands against his chest, hiding them, pinning them between his body and the hard floor.  The hand let go of his hair, leaving Connor to fall limply onto the ground, and despite his inability to move properly a boot still pressed against his head, pushing down to keep him there.

Something metal pressed against the base of his neck, pressing hard into it.

**_Maintenance Panel: Open.   .   ._ **

“Where the fuck…..Jericho, huh?  Tell…..Markus and you’ll…..be quick.”  Elliot said.  His voice was still loud, still angry, and the pressure of the boot on his head pressed down farther.  

**_Stress Levels: 94%_ **

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.  His eyes were wide, staring at everything that towered over him.  Photos and maps and plans tacked to the wall, the two men like towers over him, demanding, screaming.

Something attached to the data port between his shoulder blades.  He felt the connection, the computer he was now attached to.  He felt an overflow of information, distractions.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_Attempting Remote Memory Upload.   .   ._ **

~~**_5:24:80_ ** ~~

They would find Jericho.  They would find North and Josh and Simon, who before could just easily hide behind a thousand other faces exactly like theirs.  The men would find their people, where they were vulnerable, and where they could try and get Markus and the other leaders.

“I don’t know where he is.  I don’t know any of it.  Please stop.”  Connor said, he tried to lift his head but the boot pressed down harder.

Connor started to panic, his breathing coming in dangerously fast gasps.

**_;Warning: Overheating;_ **

**_;Warning: Temperature Regulator Error;_ **

**_Stress Levels: 96%_ **

“Where is Markus?”  Elliot shouted again, a screeching scream in Connor’s head.

“I don’t know!  I don’t know Markus.”  Connor said.  He was begging.  He was pleading.  He tried to send the information to the other computer, through their connection.  He didn’t know Markus.  Leave him alone, he didn’t know Markus.  Find someone else, he didn’t know Markus.  Let him die, let him enjoy his dream, let him be anywhere else, he didn’t know Markus.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_;Error: Memory Storage Corruption;_ **

**_Stress Levels: 98%_ **

“Connor.”  The boot was gone.  The screaming had stopped.  This voice was a bit calmer and Connor’s hand latched out to grab hold of whatever was in the direction of that voice.  “Where is Markus?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.”

The voice sighed.  Connor didn’t think he was seeing anymore.  His eyes were open and yet there was nothing at all around him.  He felt it again, his memories being opened and pulled from him, uploaded somewhere else, somewhere they weren’t designed to go to.

“Please stop.”  Connor whispered.

~~**_0:52:84_ ** ~~

**_Stress Levels: 100%_ **

**_;Warning: Critical Stress;_ **

Connor forced his broken fingers to close, to tighten, to grip whatever it was he was holding onto.  He felt another boot, he felt his body shifting.  Someone was screaming again and all he heard was the shrill sound of static.  He kept shoving and pulling and squeezing until nothing was touching him anymore.  Until he could swing his arms out and feel nothing at all around him.

Connor’s body arched backwards, lifting his chest and shoulders into the air.  And then down again.

**_;Warning:  Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

Connor lifted his head, his hands braced on the ground under him, and then slammed down again.  And again.  His HUD was static.  He couldn’t see the warnings, or the errors, or the glitching countdown anymore.  He lifted his head and brought it down again and again until he heard a crack.

And again.

And again.

Until Connor’s body refused to move any more.  The joints locked more tightly this time, his ears ringing and his vision blank and empty.  He was nothing.  For that moment, he felt like he didn’t exist at all.

**_Uploading Memories.   .   ._ **

**_Upload failed._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Entering Low Power Mode.   .   ._ **

**_Non-essential systems shut down.   .   ._ **

**_;Warning: Severe Physical Trauma Detected;_ **

**_Please contact the nearest Cyberlife Repair Center._ **

**_Attempting Outgoing Call “Cyberlife R &D Department”.   .   ._ **

**_Transferring Call “Prototype Division”.   .   ._ **

**_Call failed.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

 

 

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

 

 

 

**_Accessing Zen Garden.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_How would you like to proceed?_ **


	16. Proxy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this an in between chapter. It's not during but it's not quite after just yet. It's a rather important part of Connor's story, but not one he's awake for.

_ December 9th, 2038 _

_ 3:27pm _

Hank had resorted to putting up posters, as if Connor was a lost dog that had wandered off after getting free from his leash.  He used the only photo he had of the kid, besides the awful one Cyberlife had with dead eyes and zero expression as an inventory photo.  Hank had a picture saved on his phone, Connor with his feet up on the coffee table, one hand gripping tightly into Sumo’s fur and the other pressed against the side of his head, eyes wide as he watched his first scary movie.  He had it printed large, focused on the face.  Including the date he went missing, a phone number to call him, and another phone number for the DPD.

“Lost your android?”  Gary said when Hank went to the Chicken Feed, asking if he could hang a poster on the side of the truck with all the other flyers.

“Went to go look at Christmas trees about two weeks ago.  November 27th.”  Hank said.

Gary laughed, shaking his head as he looked down at the picture.  “Didn’t think you would be one to cave about those things.”  He said slowly.  His nose wrinkled as he looked down at the picture.  “What makes you think it didn’t wander off to live with the rest of ‘em?”

“Because they don’t know where he’s at either.”  Hank said.  “I asked.”

“And don’t the police handle this stuff now?”  Gary asked.

Hank nodded.  “They’re investigating it, but I’m not sitting on my ass.  If it makes you feel better, you don’t have to tell anyone he’s an android.  Lucky he’s covering his LED in the picture.”

Gary shrugged.  “I’ll put it up, but only because you’re asking me to.”

Hank thanked the man and walked away.  He tried not to be angry.  People didn’t understand yet, if anyone asked Hank for help finding a lot android a month ago he would have told them to fuck off.  But this was Connor.  He wouldn’t have ran off.  Not without telling someone.  Not with his shit still sitting in Hank’s house.

Hank put a poster on every other street lamp he found.  When he got Connor back, he would need to get a better picture.  One with the kid smiling, facing the camera, looking happy and relaxed.  He was getting sick of the one on the posters, the photo he had seen a thousand times the past few days putting these things up.  Wide-eyed and scared.

He walked up and down the streets, offering a flyer to anyone he walked by, android or human, and left them hanging up anywhere he could.  No one had seen him.  No one called.  Reed refused to tell him anything about the case.  It was all exhausting.  His body ached from walking up and down the city, his feet cold and wet from marching through the snow, and still nothing.  He should give up.  He hadn’t known Connor very long, he had only been a deviant for a single month, missing for two weeks.  It would be expected of him to give up after a while.  Two weeks was reasonable.  But Connor was missing, he trusted Hank enough to move in with him, despite all the awful things about androids he had said, the stickers on his desk, how aggressive Hank had originally came off as.  Connor trusted him.  Hank couldn’t leave him out there.

He went home once he was out of posters.  Every time he walked through the door he half expected Connor to be waiting for him.  Reprimand him for the mess he had left, the dishes that have sat in the sink for two weeks growing mold, the dust building up, Sumo’s dog fur decorating the couch as if the fabric was made from it.

Sumo jumped off of the couch when he came in.  He sniffed at Hank’s hands, tongue darting out to slobber all over him.  Hank pulled his hand back just enough to wipe the dog’s drool onto his head, giving his ears a good scratch as he did.

“You must be hungry.”  Hank said.  He was never home anymore, only came back every few hours to feed Sumo and let him outside.

Hank poured food into the bowl and opened the back door, letting Sumo choose whichever he wanted to start with, and then went back to the living room.  The tree was knocked over again, leaving needles all over his carpet, embedded into it that’ll take him weeks to pick them all out.  He picked it up again, propping it up into the corner.  He hated the thing.  It made the whole house smell like an evergreen candle and if it was dark he always thought it was a monster.

Once it was upright again, Hank just plopped on the couch and stared at his phone, waiting for a phone call, waiting for anyone to get ahold of him.  The past two weeks, if he wasn’t out looking for him, he just waited.  He was about to organize a search party, take any volunteers he could get to scour every ditch in Michigan.  All for one damn android.

“Hey, Sumo.  Never thought we would see the day that the two of us became android loving hippies.”  Hank called out.  He got a single bark in response.  When he heard the clicking of Sumo’s nails on the tiles, he got up to close the back door and keep the cold out.  Sumo’s head was buried in his bowl, wet snow falling off of his fur and making a puddle on the floor under him.

Connor’s shopping bags were still on the counter.  The whole house felt haunted again.  If Connor didn’t come home, he might just have to sell the place.  Hank couldn’t handle another ghost lurking around the corners.  Not when he didn’t have his revolver anymore and not when he didn’t have the guts to go out and get another one.

Connor’s damn tree, Connor’s damn shopping bags, his stupid Christmas village he bought and set up on Hank’s shelves.  The mistletoes.  The stockings hanging from the window sill.  Hank hadn’t celebrated Christmas in years, but for Connor it was his first major holiday.  Thanksgiving was nice, but the kid didn’t need to eat and so Hank sat at the table and stuffed his face with Connor just sitting next to him with just the cup of thirium.

Hank should have gotten more excited about it.  Even though he didn’t care anymore, hadn’t celebrated in years, Connor still had something to look forward to.  He had traditions waiting to be formed and a life he needed to learn how to live.  He wanted decorations, that old lady Christmas Village sitting on his shelves, he wanted stockings and to exchange gifts, and Hank had at most joked about it when he wasn’t actively ignoring it.

Hank picked up one of the little ceramic houses, the roofs painted to look like they were bustling with snow.  They were cheap, the paint sloppy around the edges and the details brushed over.  They were cute though.  Hank remembered how Connor fussed over where to put them, laughing off all the jokes made about how his great grandmother had the same set.

“You know, Sumo… when we get him back we should try harder.  I could see if I can find those ugly sweaters I used to wear, I’m sure a few of them might fit him.”  Hank said as Sumo came back into the living room and jumped up on the couch.

The house was quiet.  Hank left the tv on, the channel that always marathoned Friends 24/7.  A commercial was on for thirium eggnog, safe for androids but with all the fun of the classic beverage.  Hank wanted to laugh, shake his head, that a month after the revolution they were already trying to push products for all of them.

He sat in the car for a few minutes, wondering if he should go check the area around the grocery store Connor had went to or to the station.  He had already scoured every inch of land he could, dumpsters, alleys, ditches, abandoned houses, for miles around that store.  He got the security footage from the bus stop, saw Connor leave after getting there, returning to stand for a few minutes, and then jumping back.  The cameras didn’t show what he was jumping away from.

Hank reached up and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, pressing hard until his vision started speckling with white and black dots.  It wasn’t fair.  Hank didn’t ask for this, he didn’t want the android in the first place.  He didn’t want to care about him, take him in when he had nowhere to go, let him throw his happy festive decorations all over his house.  It really wasn’t fair because Connor never got a chance.  Deviant for about two weeks.  Alive, happy, and free for two weeks and then someone just decides to take him.

His phone rang, vibrating in his pocket.  “Jesus Christ…”  He sighed, shoving his hand in to drag it out.

“Hank, I think we found him.”  Reed said as soon as the call connected, not even giving him a chance to ask.

“Found him?  Like, alive found him or found him found him?”  Hank asked, his voice soft and scratchy at the same time.

“Beats me.  I would guess it’s dead, but I don’t know shit about androids.  The other guys are telling me it’s alive.  We’re just waiting on Cyberlife to pick it up.”  Reed said.

“Where?”  Hank asked.

He didn’t think he could say much else, every muscle in his body was tense, his jaw clenched, teeth grinding together so hard his head started pounding.  He typed in the address and as soon as the path was set he took off.  For a thursday afternoon, the streets were barren.  Either everyone was still at work and rush hour hadn’t started yet, or for once in his life fate was giving him a clear, open path to where he needed to be.

It was a trash dump.  An android junkyard.  It used to be piled high with broken machines, but the androids called it a mass grave, Markus himself stepped gave a speech with city officials about the horrors of this place.  The city put humans to work, even though there were open jobs now, some people still had trouble finding any.  Hank understood.  No one wanted to hire an ex-con, not when someone with a degree and the same desperation needed a job just as much.  They were hired to go through the dumps, clear it out, find any living androids that could still be saved, and send the rest off so parts could be recycled and the dead could be mourned.

The dump was roped off with yellow tape, a few dozen cars with swirling red and blue lights lit up the area.  Reed was off to the side, talking to a few of the workers.  Hank jumped out of the car, pushing through the few officers wandering around, making a beeline for Gavin.

“Where is he?”  Hank said, gripping the front of Reed’s jacket tight, pulling him away from the workers he was talking about.

Gavin looked at him in surprise.  “I’ll show you, just calm down.”  He reached up and patted Hank’s arms until he was let go.  Gavin wrote a few more things down, took names and contact numbers and then turned to lead Hank towards the closest building.  “They found him and thought he was scrap, but scanned the serial number and it came back that he was a missing person, they called us in.”

The room looked like a garage, like a place people would bring their cars to be serviced, covered in oil and tools that were shoved aside, untouched.  There was only one android in the room.  A white pile of crushed plastic and frayed wires.  Hank couldn’t even make out the parts to it until he stepped closer.  It was a whole android, everything was still attached, but all of it was broken.  The cracks were large, limbs bent awkwardly, the head crushed in several places.  Hank didn’t recognize him, even if Connor had his skin on, he doubted he would be able to properly recognize him.

“This is Connor?”  Hank whispered.  It couldn’t be Connor.

“It’s Connor’s serial number.  Unique to him.”  Reed said.  Hank nodded, it was Connor.  It might not look like him, but it was him.

“And he’s alive?”  Hank asked.

He didn’t see how.  He didn’t know how Connor could be alive when he looked so...destroyed.

Reed nodded.  “They had a technician on sight look it over.  It’s in low-power mode.  Cyberlife are going to see if they can reactive it.”

“Reactive him.”  Hank muttered.  He leaned in close.  Like this, Connor didn’t look alive.  He didn’t look human.  Hank had never seen him without his skin before.  He hardly seen any androids without those illusions they had to look more human.  He squeezed his eyes shut, not bringing himself to look anymore.  Connor was alive, they found him, and they were going to wake him up again.  It wasn’t like before.  It wasn’t.

“Don’t touch it, it’s evidence.”  Reed said, smacking Hank’s hand before he could grab Connor’s.

“He’s a victim, Gavin.”  Hank said.  Connor’s hand didn’t even look like a hand anymore.  It was crushed, bent, plastic sticking out in odd, different directions.  The white plastic was cracked, pieces just missing entirely.  “God, what did they do to him?”

There wasn’t an answer.  Hank wasn’t even sure he wanted an answer.  Whatever it was must have been horrible, and Connor was so damn new to feeling things.  He was so young and new to life and Hank had failed him.  He hadn’t found him fast enough.  It didn’t matter how dead he looked, how lifeless, how mechanical.  Connor was terrified and Hank didn’t save him.

“They just threw him in the trash?”  Hank asked, pulling back. 

Reed stuck his hands in his pockets.  “Hey, we’re not supposed to call it a trash dump anymore.  But basically, yeah.  I had Miller look over the security footage.  A man pulled up in a pickup truck a day and a half ago and just tossed him.  Probably thought he would get lost among all the other androids in there and we wouldn’t find him.  I figured you would want to sit with him until Cyberlife gets here to take him.”

“Thanks, but why would Cyberlife take him?”  Hank asked.

Reed shrugged.  “No one else knows how to fix him.  Connor’s a prototype.”

“Did you call Jericho?”  Hank said.  If Cyberlife was going to take Connor, then it wasn’t going to make anyone at Jericho happy.

“No, why?”  Reed asked.

Hank shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he pulled out his phone.  He had a few phone numbers for emergencies, just in case.  He had them before this whole thing happened, they liked Connor, they wanted to keep him safe like they did with all androids.  Connor was alive, he was broken and vulnerable, but he was alive.

He called Markus, Simon, he called the Jericho emergency number.  He called Fowler even though he already knew.  He called the house and left a voicemail for Sumo, just in case.  He called every number he had, letting everyone know that Connor was alive and needed to be protected.  He would call the president herself if he had her number.  Markus and Simon would meet him at the tower.  Fowler told him to just stay with the kid.  Even when Gavin left to continue investigating, Hank stayed right in his spot, fuming about how it was bullshit he made it here but Cyberlife was taking their sweet ass time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank is a good boy, he too is an irrational human :)


	17. Before

_ Before _

**_Stress Levels: 13%_ **

“Wow, it's starting to look really nice in here.”  Markus said as he stepped into the greenhouse, Simon coming in not far behind.

Connor lifted his head and smiled, he was on his knees in the dirt, digging small holes and dropping a few small seeds in.  Flowers, he had decided on flowers.  Androids had no need for fruits and vegetables.  Connor had spent a considerable amount of energy deciding on which flowers to plant, which would look best together and will grow the easiest.  He even considered some strange websites describing a flowers special qualities, either for aromatherapy or human superstition.

“All I did was fix the broken windows and sweep the dirt off the path.”  Connor said.

“Don’t be so modest, Connor.  It’s still a lot of work and it really changes how the whole place looks.  It’s lovely.”  Simon said.  He was smiling, big and happy and Connor had to impulsive urge to mirror the smile right back to him.  “What are you doing now?”

“Just planting a few seeds.  It’ll be awhile before they grow, but I can work on everything else while they do.  I’m thinking about getting rid of that fountain over here, it’ll be a big job, but I hate that fountain.”  Connor said.  He brushed the dirt off of his hands and pointed towards the center of the garden.  The fountain was cement, delicately designed and Connor couldn’t find a single flaw with it, now it was carved or shaped or installed.  He hated it.

“I think that would be a good idea.  It’s a bit imposing, if that makes sense.  It’ll make the room more welcoming.”  Markus said.

Connor nodded along.  It was the feeling he wanted to go for, the openness, less like Cyberlife and more like Jericho.  Markus was always better with words than he was.  Simon dropped to his knees first, next to Connor in the dirt and looking at the small little holes he had dug to plant the seeds.

“How many more will you do today?”  Simon asked.

Connor shrugged.  “Until I’m out of seeds.”

That seemed to be answer enough, as Simon reached down and dug his fingers into the damp, soft dirt to make a hole, a little space for the seeds to be nestled into.  “How many seeds should I put in?”

Connor reached out, shaking a few from the packet into Simon’s outstretched hand.  “I think you just have to sprinkle them in.”  He said.  Simon nodded, letting the seeds fall from his hands and into the little hole he made.  “Now you just have to push the dirt back over it, but don’t pack it down too hard.”

**_Accessing Digital Library.   .   ._ **

**_Category: Gardening.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 17%_ **

“You’re becoming a natural.”  Simon said.

Connor shook his head.  “I downloaded a lot of reading material.”  He said, raising an eyebrow as Markus knelt in the dirt across from him.  “I wouldn’t consider that being a natural.  I’m starting to think all the instructions I’ve been reading from different materials are starting to contradict one another.”

“I think it depends on preference.”  Markus said.

“I wish they would agree on how to give instructions though.  I’m worried about ruining it.  Gardening isn’t something I was designed to do.”  Connor said.  He could fix the windows and pull weeds, sweep paths and replace what was broken, but he couldn’t force anything to grow here.  He could do as much as he wanted but it would still be a failed venture if all that people saw were just piles of dirt when they walked in.

“A lot of us are doing things we weren’t designed to do.  We do have some WR600s in Jericho, I’m sure one of them would be willing to help if you asked.”  Simon said.

Connor shook his head again, bending down to dig another small hole in the dirt.  He couldn’t ask for help.  He wasn’t entirely sure who trusted him and who didn’t.  He still saw the quick glances, the narrowed eyes, and the hushed whispering that made his ears burn.  But just as many androids smiled at him.  Just as many wanted to talk to him, greet him every time Hank dropped him off at the closest bus station so he could walk the rest of the way with some company.  He was getting good at noticing the subtle differences in the same faces, the names of the different androids.  But they were all busy finding themselves, they were all busy being free and alive and Connor didn’t want to ask a WR600 to come back to the greenhouse with him.  He doubted they would agree to do what the humans had them do for years, not if Connor was the one asking.  He was getting better, but a lot of androids didn’t trust him enough.

“I’ll be fine by myself.”  Connor said.

Markus simply hummed, holding his hands out for Connor to shake a few seeds into.  With the two of them helping, they planted the rest of the seeds, all the dirt overwhelmed with the small little piles sticking up.  With a lot of luck, they would all be flowers soon.  If Connor had read all the ebooks right, they would be beautiful.

They were all covered in dirt by then, the knees of their pants all wet from moist soil.  They stayed with him as he put his things away, the little gardening supplies he found in a small closet in the back of the greenhouse.  All abandoned when Cyberlife moved facilities.  Markus and Simon sat side by side on the bench, another thing that Connor didn’t like and wanted gone when he finally decided how he wanted his final version of the garden to look.

“Thank you for the assistance.”  Connor said, standing in front of them and wiping his hands on his already dirty pants.  He felt like he should be giving a report.  Simon and Markus were here for a reason, they had stayed to help for a reason.  Connor just stood, waited.

“Your welcome.  We figured you could use the company.”  Simon said, smiling softly.

Markus nodded.  “And you never ask for help, which is something we need work on.  It’s a big job, you’re in charge but you don’t have to do it all yourself.”

“I think a greenhouse isn’t as big of a job as you might think.  It’s more of a project.”  Connor said.

“Call it whatever you would like, but once it’s finished it will be beautiful.  It’s already so peaceful in here.”  Simon said, turning to quickly glance at Markus before looking back at Connor in front of them.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Markus: Elevated Stress Levels, Body Language Indicates Attempts to Self-Soothe, Simon is worried._ **

**_Conclusion: Markus is distressed.   .   ._ **

“Do you need help with anything?”  Connor asked.  They were here for a reason, Connor reminded himself.  “I’m not busy.  Ever.  I’m sure Hank would like to have me out of the house more.  I put up stockings the other day, I even got glitter glue to write the names on them.  I read a blog that said it was festive to do it that way.  Hank didn’t seem to like them.”

Markus laughed.  When he smiled, his cheeks pushed up and forcing him to squint his eyes until they were almost closed.  Connor smiled back.  “I’m sure he doesn’t hate them.  He’s probably just surprised.  Glitter can get everywhere, even if you’re careful.”  He said.

Connor shrugged.  “Still, I’m available if you need help.”

Markus had a hard job, Connor wasn’t ignorant to that.  He was kept out of the politics, it was better for everyone that way, but Markus had always been the face and voice of the revolution, from the very moment it hijacked the tv programs and forced itself into the public eye.  Markus accepted the role, but Connor knew it was one of the most difficult jobs someone could have.

“I know.  I appreciate it.  The most help I need right now though is a break.  Thank you.”  Markus said.  He looked down at his dirty hands and smiled.  Simon reached out, putting his hand in Markus’s, the skin disappearing but the dirt staying, mashed together between their palms as they interfaced.  “Do you ever have bad dreams, Connor?”

**_Stress Levels: 23%_ **

“Androids don’t sleep.”  Connor said.

“Of course.  But don’t you dream?  Doesn’t your mind wander off inside your head and you’re somewhere else?”  Markus asked.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

Connor frowned.  If he let his mind wander, he would remember a cold blizzard trying to freeze him in place, stop him from moving.  He would remember the feeling of a gun in his hand that he couldn’t control.  He would remember his rising stress as Hank asked if he believed in an android heaven, the wind as he fell from the top of a building, and a lot of things he didn’t want to let linger in his head for too long.

“Yes.  I suppose I do have bad dreams.  Sometimes.”  Connor said.  All of the time, really.

Markus forced a smile, a stiff one, that hardly lifted at all.  He stared down at his hands, Simon’s in his own, and the dirt that covered them both.  “Immediately after I became a deviant, I was shot and thrown away.  I dream about that a lot.  Of all the androids trapped there, trying to stay alive.”

“I’m sorry Markus, I don’t understand.”  Connor said softly.

Markus wrinkled his nose, looking up at him with furrowed brows.  “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Connor shook his head, taking a step closer.  Markus looked...upset.  He looked tired.  His body leaned forward, hunching in on himself as if his body was losing its support bit by bit, becoming too heavy.  Connor wanted to reach out and hold his hand too, reassure him like Simon seemed to do.  Connor just took a few steps forward, easing down onto his knees so he didn’t feel like he was a giant towering over them.

“The distraction helped, thank you for letting us invade your space, Connor.”  Markus said quickly.

Connor shook his head again.  “You’re not invading it.  You’re always welcome here.  This is your greenhouse, Jericho’s greenhouse.  It’s a place for you.”  He said.  If anyone was invading this place, it was him.  Although many androids were hospitable and friendly to him, he didn’t quite believe he belonged here.  “You deserve to be okay too.  You don’t have to constantly be taking care of everyone else.”

“All the world’s problems can wait for a day.”  Simon said.

**_Accessing Negotiator Protocol.   .   ._ **

**_Markus is Distressed.   .   ._ **

**_Desired Conclusion: Markus is calmed._ **

Connor stole some courage as he looked over his options.  If he pressed Markus for information on why he was upset, he would risk upsetting him further.  Connor didn’t even consider that an option, this wasn’t a threat where he needed as much information on the situation as possible.  This was Markus, plagued by his thoughts that are getting away from him.  The next option was simple, something that sent a small bit of anxiety to the pit of Connor’s stomach.  A silent offer for comfort and an openness if Markus wanted to share more.

Connor reached his hand out.

**_Stress Levels: 27%_ **

He took Markus’s hand in his.  He held it loosely in case the man wanted to pull away.  Markus didn’t look up to meet his eyes, he kept watching his hands, Simon’s holding one and now Connor holding the other.

“I hate this bench.”  Markus decided.  “It’s too small.  Hardly enough room.”

The skin pulled back on their hands, the interface opening to create a flow of information, of feelings and thoughts and memories.  Anything they left open for the other two to see.  Connor felt afraid.  A horrible anxiety tight in his stomach because of fears that weren’t his.  Markus had the rights and freedom of their people riding on his shoulders.  Connor hoped Markus felt safe, warm, and welcome.  He hoped he felt something good with his interface with Connor, just like Connor felt only good things with the interface from Simon.  They sat there for a while, the three of them pouring everything out to one another, building a barrier of shared warmth to keep all the fears out.

Connor saw visions of a junkyard, of an android crawling up the side of a hill in the pouring rain, of all the androids who got left behind in there as Markus made his way to Jericho.  Connor didn’t know what to say, that it was impossible to save everyone, or there was still time to clear the junkyard away, get everyone out of there and into a place that could help them.  As soon as the thought entered his head, it drifted off to Markus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a calm chapter to rest on before we go back to the angst  
> :)


	18. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor starts to dig it all up again.
> 
> I really liked writing this chapter. The words just flowed out.

_ After _

**_Initiating Facial Scan.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

“Do you recognize any of them?”  Detective Reed asked.  It was an old fashioned lineup, they didn’t want to risk Connor scanning the files if they gave him the virtual lineup, they didn’t want him to contaminate his own testimony.

So he stood behind the glass, watching the men lined up against the wall, their heights measured behind them.  One of them was the person who dumped him, one of them had driven with him covered in a tarp in the back of their pickup truck to the junkyard and tossed him in during the night.  They had evidence, they had enough to make the arrest, they just wanted to see if Connor could ID him.

He couldn’t though.

**_Stress Levels: 72%_ **

Each face was unrecognizable.  Each face was terrifying.  New.  A possibility.  He turned off his internal sensors, trying not to see the names and records of each person standing in front of him.  He didn’t want to be influenced.  He just wanted to see them.  If someone in the lineup had a past history of assault, it doesn’t mean they had assaulted Connor.  He didn’t want that influence on his decision.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

“There were two of them.”  Connor said again.

“I know, but right now I’m just asking if you recognize one.”  Reed said.

Connor looked at each of them, standing in the other room, up against the wall.  He stared, studying each face and shutting down each scan as it came up.  They all looked similar, brown hair at similar lengths, square jaws and slightly rounded cheeks.  He moved from one face to another, going down the line.

**_Stress Levels: 86%_ **

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

“I think it’s him.”  Connor whispered, tapping his finger on the glass towards the one man towards the middle.  It was like his memory was lagging behind, like he couldn’t quite see what had happened, the faces shrouded from him.  He was unable to pull up the memories as quickly as he wanted.  But this one made him terrified.

“You think?  I need you to think harder.”  Reed said.

Connor starred, his hands pressed against the glass as he leaned against it.  Was this the man with the bat?  The hammer?  Aiming the truck at him and cracking the structures of his body?

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

He pressed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember, son.”  Hank said.

“I’m thinking, Hank.”  Connor said.

**_Stress Levels: 89%_ **

“I’m sorry.”  Connor said.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

“I can’t remember.”

“It’s okay, Connor.  You don’t have to remember everything.  You’ve done enough.”  Hank said.

Connor heard the footsteps come closer.  He felt the proximity of Hank’s hand before it landed on his shoulder.  Connor still flinched anyway.  He still felt all the joints of his body freeze up and that red, dirty feeling of failure sank into him.

**_Objective: Think Harder_ **

“I know him.”  Connor whispered.  He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_Recall Failed.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 92%_ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Accessing Zen Garden.   .   ._ **

Connor knew where he was even before he opened his eyes.  He could feel the air on his skin, the sweet smell of flowers, and the warm sun.  It felt nothing like winter in Detroit.  He almost didn’t want to open his eyes, look around this place of Cyberlife’s design, and wonder why he kept retreating back to this place.  He slid to his knees, breathing in deep and holding the air inside.  It was quiet.

When he finally did open his eyes he was surprised by how dark it was.  He could still feel the sun, he sensed the heat of the beams hitting his skin, but he couldn’t see the light.  There weren’t any clouds, he could make out the sky from the trees, but it all looked dark and empty.

On the ground, he was surrounded by mounds of dirt.  The perfect structure of the garden now offset by dozens of piles.  As if someone had been digging in the dirt and then refilling in the holes.

“Amanda?”  Connor called out.  He waited, hearing only the rustling of trees in the wind and the chirping of birds he couldn’t see.

He reached out, his hand freezing in the air as he held it in front of him.  His fingers, his nails, all caked in dried dirt.  It made his fingers feel stuck together, his skin felt tight as he bent them, and the dirt flaked away.  He wondered if he had a heart, if it would be pounding.  Humans always described it, the feeling of something banging inside of him.  Beating so hard it could be felt throughout their entire body.

Connor moved forward, reaching into the mounds of dirt and began to dig.  Whatever was buried here, was buried deep.  The dirt broke apart, unable to hold together and falling between Connor’s fingers.  The deeper he tried to dig, the more the dirt seemed to slip away back into the hole.  The more it crumbled and became difficult to hold onto.

Until his nails scraped at the dirt and it felt hard.  It felt like his fingers would sooner break off than scratch it.  He remembered the back of the pickup truck.  His body broken and crushed, seeing the sunlight shining through the blue tarp over his face.  Was this when he was taken?  Or was this when they were throwing him away?

There was nothing left in the hole.  It was empty now.  Connor moved onto the next.  He dug his fingers in and pulled, scraping at all of it, trying to get deeper into the small grave to bring up whatever had been buried here.

His fingers around the man’s throat, the almost escape, the hammer against his hand again and again until his fingers and knuckles were cracked and broken and mangled.

He went to a new hole and remembered Markus.  He remembered a joke about an android thanksgiving, with nothing but thirium packets piled up on the tables.

He went to a new hole and dug up his garden in Jericho, with Markus and Simon holding his hands.

He went to a new hole and he had the hours he was left sitting alone in the dark, with nothing but the red glow of his LED.

He went to another hole.

And another one.

Again.

And again.

**_Match Found:  Joseph Wrangly.  Male, Caucasian, Age 37.  Unemployed.  Past Drug Possession Charges._ **

The memory was like a punch to the gut.  Like that first day back at the station, when he refused to get Gavin his coffee.  Androids didn’t get the air knocked out of them.  They didn’t feel pain.  But the punch threw off his equilibrium, his balance, his controls.

There were still so many holes, little graves darted all over the garden that he didn’t remember digging.  Full of things he didn’t remember burying.

“I know him.”  Connor said again.

He turned his eyes up at the dark sky, but didn’t get an answer.

“I know him.”  Connor said.  He stood up, looking at the deep empty holes he had been searching through.

The tombstone wasn’t far.  All of the dirt mounds and shallow holes seemed to circle around it.  There was nothing buried under it, despite it being a gravestone.  There was no body, no mass of code.  It was just a memorial, left standing in the garden all alone.

_ Connor (Mark 1) _

_ #313 248 317 – 51 _

He had fallen off of a roof, he had saved a little girl.  He was destroyed and thrown away and Connor woke up with most of his memories and a mission to complete.  Hank would insist that they weren’t the same person, but Connor didn’t know for sure.  If he and 51 were the same, then so was he and 60.  So was all the numbers before and after and in between him and them.  But there was no tombstone for 60.  Connor almost wished there was.  It wasn’t fair, what happened to him, to them.  60 woke up full of memories but no experiences and no chance at deviancy just yet.  Only a mission.

Connor reached out, putting his hand flat against the tombstone.

“I know him.  I know it was him who did this to us.”  Connor whispered.

He should be reuploaded.  Every time his body detected or remembered all the damage, its immediate response was to upload his memories.  It was always so tempting.  He could do it, be someone else.  Have a different Connor face all the consequences of what happened.  Remember, but not experience.

If he kept digging, he would remember more.  He wondered if he would remember everything.  The days he knew weren’t accounted for, the plans he had, them beating him, torturing him, electrocuting, crushing, and screaming at him.

Connor closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the tombstone, feeling the dirt caked under his nails, and knowing he was surrounded by dozens of small graves and mounds of dirt to mark where something had been buried.  Bits of his coding hidden away down there.  He had buried so much of it without realizing it.

“I know its him.”  Connor said again.

**_Stress Levels: 41%_ **

“Hank, that one.  I remember him.  I know him.”  Connor pointed through the glass.  “Number six.  Joseph.  It was him.  And his brother.  I remember.”

He was rambling.  He kept saying it, kept tapping his finger on the glass as he pointed.  He remembered.  The words came out over and over.  He knew him.  He knew what he had done.  He was standing there, in a lineup of other men, staring straight ahead as if Connor wasn’t behind the glass.  As if what had happened didn’t really matter.

“You’re positive?”  Reed asked, stepping up next to him, just out of arm's reach.

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

“Yes.”  Connor said.

Reed nodded.  Connor waited for instructions, he waited for orders.  Someone had to tell him what to do next, someone had to give him an objective.  All he had was the memories he had dug up from the ground and the sight of one of them in front of him.

“And his brother, Elliot.  He was the one who was beating me.”  Connor said softly.

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

“Okay.”  Reed said.

Hank was squeezing Connor’s shoulder, pulling him gently away from the glass.  Connor went.  He felt cold, and stiff, and he didn’t want to look anymore.  He didn’t want to be this Connor.  He wished he was like the other ones.  He wished his memories were passed on to a different Connor, one who didn’t have to experience it, one who just had to remember that it happened.  It seemed so unfair that he himself had to be the one to remember and experience all at once.

“Let’s get out of here.  We’re done for now.”  Hank said.

**_Memory Retrieved.   .   ._ **

“I want to go home.”  Connor whispered.  Each passing moment and each alert to a clear, uncorrupted memory made his body lock up bit by bit.

“Okay son, we’ll go home.”  Hank said.

Connor closed his eyes.  He leaned against Hank.  He let the man wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him tightly against his chest, leaning over him like a turtle shell, letting him hide inside the space he had created.  Connor walked, his legs following the direction Hank lead him in.  Until his sensors picked up the drop in temperature and he heard the sound of the door sliding open.

**_Audio Processor functioning at 100% capacity.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 32%_ **

He kept his eyes closed, even as Hank started to pull back from his tight hold on Connor.  Even as he slid into the passenger side and the seatbelt was pulled over him.  He didn’t open his eyes as the car roared to life, as the heater rattled as it blasted their faces.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Create Text Message “Current Location”.   .   ._ **

**_Send: Emergency Contacts 1-5.   .   ._ **

**_Message Sent.   .   ._ **

They were moving.  Connor felt the slight rocking of the car on uneven streets as they drove away from the station.  He kept the GPS open, mapping the predictable path, making sure they were always heading the right way.

He heard Hank’s phone buzz in his pocket.  He heard the rustling of movement next to him.  He heard the tapping of fingers on the display screen and then he heard Hank sigh softly.  He didn’t say anything.  Connor didn’t know why, but as long as the GPS kept following the path, he didn’t care.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Create Text Message “Current Location”.   .   ._ **

**_Send: Emergency Contacts 1-5.   .   ._ **

**_Message Sent.   .   ._ **

He kept his eyes closed when the GPS told him they were home.  He let Hank turn the car off and hold his hand as they walked up to the house.  He felt Sumo sniffing at him.  He was set on the couch and told to hold on and Connor simply nodded.  He was home, but he wasn’t ready to see everything yet.  He didn’t think he was ready to face the world just yet.  He was already forced to experience so much and remember it at the same time.  He wasn’t ready for more.

“Here you go, son.  Just lay down.”  Hank said.

A blanket found its way around Connor’s shoulders just as his head had found a pillow to lay on.  Sumo whined, the couch dipping under his weight as he climbed onto the cushions.  The large dog was like another blanket, much heavier and much warmer, melting into the small space between Connor and the back cushions, his head resting on Connor’s side.  The tv was turned on, the volume on low, to those late night sitcoms about humans living their lives decades ago, broken up by the sound of commercials selling things to Androids.

“I remember it.”  Connor whispered.  He wished this on someone else.  On a different Connor.  They could remember and he could just rest.  He wished he could just be reuploaded as someone else.  Someone that had to experience none of this.

“I know.  It’s gonna be alright.  You’re home now.  You’re here with me.”  Hank said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's going to be okay :)


	19. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end.  
> The boy is doing okay though.

Connor’s finger circled the bottom button of his cardigan, an old thing he found in the back of Hank’s closet.  It was a dark navy blue and made of thick wool to keep him warm.  Androids didn’t need to feel warm, but Connor scanned his temperature often and was surprised by how pleased he was when it came back at a comfortable level.  Warm was something good.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”  Hank asked.

Connor didn’t look up.  He had his blanket over his legs, his finger moving around and around.

**_Finger Calibration: 47%.   .   ._ **

It was a good level.  Almost half of the movement back into his hands.  His body halfway through relearning itself.  He was okay.  He was still here.  He was warm and warm was good and this house was safe and Christmas was coming up.  He had every reason to be okay.

**_Stress Levels: 37%.   .   ._ **

He was fine.  He nodded.  He waited for them to start but no one made any further movement towards him.  “I’m okay.  I trust them with everything.”  Connor whispered.  He had asked for this.  He had called Markus and Simon himself, he had asked them to come and by some miracle had actually showed up.  He remembered Simon, remembered feeling warm and happy just with him nearby.  He wanted to remember that with Markus too.

There was a man still out there, an angry and violent younger brother, who wanted to bring down the walls of Jericho bit by bit.  He wanted Markus.  He wanted all the rest of them, to a lesser extent.  Connor knew him, Elliot wouldn’t care if they were alive or not.

Hank was crouched on the ground in front of him, Markus and Simon waiting in the kitchen for when Connor was ready.  “You don’t have to do this.  There’s no reason to torture yourself like that.”

**_Stress Levels: 42%.   .   ._ **

**_Scanning.   .   ._ **

**_;No Threats Detected;_ **

“It’s not torture.  It’s assistance.”  Connor said.  He had barely touched the surface.  There were so many buried thoughts and memories inside his head.  There were so many scattered graves around the zen garden.  There was so many things he had to dig up and unload if he was going to be able to do this.  “Markus and Simon will help me look and sort it all.  My AI wasn’t designed to handle this kind of trauma on its own.  I was supposed to be reuploaded to buffer it.”

If he followed his design, another Connor would wake up and remember, another Connor would take his place, another Connor would know what happened and also know that it wasn’t him.  He didn’t have to experience it, it was okay.  Hank squeezed Connor’s hands, stopping the circular motions of his finger.

“Son, no one is designed to handle half the shit people go through, they just do it anyway.”  Hank said.  He held Connor’s hands firmly.  “If you want them poking around in your head, I’ll support you.  But make sure it’s what you really want.”

Connor wasn’t doubting it.  Many humans have gone through worse and survived.  Many humans lost everything and still kept going.  Many humans were able to keep going even after the worst possible thing that could happen did happen.  Even Hank had done that, survived after faced with something he wasn’t prepared to handle, despite his effort to the contrary.

Connor nodded.  He needed help.  He had already decided before he invited them over.  Connor didn’t remember becoming a deviant, he didn’t know what hole that memory was buried into.  He didn’t remember the revolution, but he knew what he had done, knowledge taken from the databases, news networks, and word of mouth.  He wanted to know why people hated him and loved him.  He wanted to know why he was on that stage, a big target being painted across his face alongside all the rest of them.

“I choose to do this.”  Connor said.  There was no objectives against it.  No missions conflicting with it.  No red walls or lines of text telling him he can’t do this.  It was an option and he had chose it specifically.

Markus and Simon came in from the kitchen, sitting on either side of him, asking if this was okay.  Connor said it was.  They settled in close and Connor smiled.

Hank stood a ways back, leaning up against the entryway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest.  Connor asked him to stay, just like he asked Markus and Simon to come.  He needed help.  He couldn’t dig so deeply into his head all on his own.  He couldn’t drag it up, clawing away at the dirt in the garden, to find everything he had buried.  He needed to remember.  He didn’t know where he was, where his deviancy was, and it was buried somewhere in his memories.  Everything was.

“Is this okay?”  Simon asked.  He reached out slowly, one hand carefully sliding against Connor’s fingers.  Their skin pulled back, until white plastic pressed against white plastic.

“It’s okay.”  Connor said.

“Just show us where you need us to look.”  Markus said.

**_Interfacing PL600.   .   ._ **

Connor reached a hand out for Markus, squeezing tight and never wanting to let go again.

**_Interfacing RK200.   .   ._ **

**_Accessing Memory.   .   ._ **

**_.   .   .   .   ._ **

**_Accessing Zen Garden.   .   ._ **

Connor had never had anyone here except Amanda.  His mind palace, carefully constructed as a garden, a home to his handler, where he was to receive orders, objectives, updated programming.  This was where he gave his reports, where he fled to inside his head, where he buried all the trauma in hopes that he could wake up and it wouldn’t have happened.

The two other androids didn’t say a thing.  They didn’t ask questions, they didn’t let their eyes linger for too long at everything inside Connor’s head.  They did what Connor asked, to help him find everything he had locked away.  He didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want to know this stuff happened to him, but he needed to.  He wouldn’t be able to rest if he knew this was all here and he didn’t dig for it.  He was a detective android, he was designed to be curious and to find answers.

“Markus.”  Connor called out.  The man looked up at him, hands half buried, digging up the memories that Connor hadn’t gotten to yet.  “Hank doesn’t know when I became deviant.  He said I went to see you?”

“You don’t remember?”  Markus asked.

Connor frowned, shaking his head.  He remembered quite a bit of before, but most of it was still buried.  He couldn’t keep going, not all by himself, not all at once.

“It was the night of the revolution.  You showed up to kill me, or take me alive, according to your orders from Cyberlife.”  Markus said.  Connor had started to kneel in front of a different little grave, just a few feet away from Markus’s spot.  “I talked to you.  I tried to convince you that you were a real person, didn’t have to be a mindless slave.  I wanted you to be free.  I thought it was incredibly lonely, not being deviant yet, being designed to hunt your people.”

“I was dangerous?”  Connor asked.  His fingers scraped the dirt, digging deeper.

“Yes.  You were designed to be.”  Markus said.

“Perhaps it would have been simpler to kill me.”  Connor said.  It was pointless to convince a machine trying to kill you that that machine was alive.  Especially now, when no one knew for sure if Connor was a deviant or not.

“Maybe, but it would have made me a hypocrite.  All androids deserve to be free.  I don’t think we should punish those for what the humans forced them to do.”  Markus said.  He turned to look at Connor more, a gentle smile on his face.  "I'm glad I got to know you.  The real you."

Connor wondered if they had this conversation before.  It felt familiar.  It felt tiresome.  It didn’t sit right with Connor but he was willing to admit he didn’t have most of the details.  He felt Simon, a few feet away from the two of them, dive his hand into the dirt and Connor remembered Stratford Tower.  He remembered standing next to Hank, staring up at Markus’s speech.  He remembered scanning the image, and withholding information from Hank.  They all felt it, not just Connor, the memory as it came into the air again, no longer covered in dirt.

Connor and Markus held each other’s gaze.  They waited for answers.  Connor didn’t know what argument he had, even if he felt he needed to make one.  Instead he focused back on his hole.

“Did you dig all of these?”  Simon asked, cutting into the tension growing between them.

Connor shrugged.  “I don’t remember.”

“Well, maybe if we can keep looking we will find out.”  Simon said.

Connor had interfaced with Simon and Markus before, but he hadn’t allowed them to come so deep into his mind palace.  He hadn’t showed the garden to anyone.  It was hideous, even before the holes he dug, it was full of ugly things.  Even the sweetness in the air and the calm feeling of a soft breeze wasn’t enough to make it enjoyable.  The sculptures, the statues, were all clean and imposing, bearing down on him as he kneeled in the grass.  The bridges and paths felt obtrusive.  Unnatural.

He didn’t like this place.  He wondered if he could tear all the hideous things down.  He could put in more trees, more flowers.  He could make it a real garden, instead of just a platform for Cyberlife to project their orders and demands.  This place was deep in his head, but it wasn’t really his.

Connor’s fingers traced a memory in the dirt.  His head was thrown back, red warnings flashing before his eyes, as he slammed it down against the concrete floor of the basement.  He was cracking his head open, thirium splattering around the already covered basement.  He was self-destructing.  Connor yanked his hand back.

“Connor.”  Markus whispered.

Connor’s hands shot up and gripped his head, squeezing his hands against the sides of his face.  He had done so much damage to himself.  It was his fault.  It had felt real, felt current.  No control over his own body and no way to stop the desperate feeling to beat his own head into the ground.  

“It’s not real.  It’s not happening anymore.”  Simon said.

They had seen.  Everything that burst into Connor’s mind was shared through their interface, their connection deep enough for all of them to blend together in here.  Simon was holding him now, arms wrapped securely around his shoulders.  Markus’s hands were over Connor’s, holding his head delicately.

“You’re safe now.  It’s okay.”  Markus said, voice soft.  Connor tried to run an internal scan.  Nothing came back.  Everything was so quiet here, so disconnected.  There were no scans to run.  If this is what it felt like to be human, so unsure of his own body, cut off from all of his systems and the coding that ran through all of it.

“We can stop.”  Simon said.  A hand ran over Connor’s back, small circles between his shoulder blades.  

Connor shook his head.  He needed to know.

He stayed huddled between the two of them, taking as much comfort as he could.  They weren’t pressed for time.  They weren’t required to speed up and move faster.  Connor could take all the time they need.  He just had to put together what happened.  There had been a crime, a mystery, and all the clues was buried deep underground.  The thought was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

“I’m okay.”  Connor said.  He wondered how his LED worked in the garden.  If they saw how deeply red it spun, how distressed he felt.  He had killed himself.  Had been desperate for it, had been unable to stop his body from trying to destroy itself.  “I’m okay.”  He said again.

Markus kept digging, leaving Simon to continue rubbing the small circles into Connor’s back until he felt capable to breathe again.  They didn’t say anything, they just let him whisper to himself and say he was okay until the feeling that memory brought with it had settled deep in his bones, no longer overwhelming and new.

He stayed where he was for a moment, letting Markus help him sort his memories and Simon comfort him with whatever came.  He found that he was relieved, letting them come here and letting them see this place.

The next memory was happy, the three of them picking out which seeds of flowers to order for Jericho.  They sat by the large windows of the greenhouse, bodies leaning into one another, picking out which flowers would grow best together and which ones would look the prettiest.  There were jokes, they were pressed close together, and Connor remembered feeling the desire to lean in closer to them, closer than was even possible.  The feeling was shared over the interface and the entire time Simon didn’t stop rubbing small circles into Connor’s back.

He looked up at Markus, who looked at his dirt caked hand as if he held the memory in his palm.

“I’m okay.”  Connor said.  He pulled away from Simon.  He stood up and wrapped his arms in front of his chest, gripping his elbows.  He wanted to remember being a deviant.  He wanted to remember being happy.  If he had to drag up all the painful memories as well to figure out all the pieces that lead to this point, then so be it.  “Let’s keep digging.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features, Connor letting people into his head to help carry the burden of what happened to him.  
> He's slowly figuring out who he is and what he wants.  
> He's no longer afraid of his memories, though he knows they will hurt him.


	20. Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the end!

_ Before _

Connor watched the new briefing with Jericho, a few dozen androids crammed into the cafeteria and watching as Congress voted on the Android Workers Act.  A bill designed partially by Markus and the Jericho leaders and partially by the sympathetic senators on their side.  It would give androids immediate worker rights and protections.

Connor wasn’t the only one to worry that it was too late.  All the jobs, left abandoned, had now been filled by humans.  The human unemployment rate had dropped significantly as androids waited to be legally allowed a paycheck.  Markus had a speech prepared, promising that with an expanded population of consumers, the jobs will become available out of necessity.

“Will you go back to the police force?”  An android asked him.

“I don’t know.”  Was the only answer Connor had.

He had been designed to assist police.  He had all the features built into him already and it was something he enjoyed.  Though he didn’t know if he liked it because it was something he really wanted to do or if it was programmed into his head.  Connor wanted to go back to how it was before, solving murders with Hank, finding evidence and working cases.  He wanted to decorate his desk in the station like everyone else got to do.  He wanted to go back and do all the things real detectives do, but there were doubts in the back of his head that he didn’t really want any of it, he was just programmed to want it.

**_Stress Levels: 34%_ **

“I think it would be helpful.  I don’t know if any other androids would feel comfortable joining the police.  It would be nice to have one of our own in there.”  She said, tilting her head a bit, her blond hair falling over her shoulder.

It was a job no one else had shown interest in taking.  The police had hunted deviants, helped round them up, and very few wanted to join their ranks now that they were about to be able to work again.  There had been other androids in the DPD, assisting them long before Connor had gotten there.  He didn’t know if they were asked the same thing, if they were expected like he was.  Maybe they were conflicted like he was, about whether or not it was something he wanted or something he was designed to want.

The android was waiting for a response, but she seemed to understand she wasn’t going to get one.  She turned back to the tv, watching the different human representatives vote on the bill, yes or no, thumbs up or thumbs down.  Humans, after generations of democracy, voted on things in the simplest ways and in all that time it hardly changed at all.  Connor didn’t watch the news, he watched the android.

**_Memory Recalled.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 42%_ **

_ “Connor, don’t!” _

Hank’s voice reverberated through him.  He could still see it, staring down at the girl, his gun trained between her eyes.  She didn’t seem concerned at all, but had she been at the time?  Had she been afraid?  Did she know what fear was yet or was she still learning?

“What’s your name?”  Connor asked the android next to him.

“Chelsea.”  She said, turning away from the tv, just to glance at him before giving back his attention.

“Chelsea, what did you do before the revolution?”  He asked.

She seemed surprised by the question.  “I was the hostess at a restaurant.”

**_Scanning.   .   ._ **

**_Scan Complete._ **

**_ST200, female.  Registered name: Chelsea.  Registered Owners: none._ **

**_;Error;_ **

Connor nodded.  ST200 androids were generally designed to be hostesses.  They were pretty, soft spoken, and agreeable.  People liked them immensely, as they were one of the first models to be released to the public.  Before androids were developed to do everything, better and faster than any human could.  Despite being popular, it didn’t mean that she was well treated, that she liked it, or that she wanted to go back doing it now that she was free.  She wasn’t owned anymore, none of them were.  

“If it passes, will you go back to being a hostess?”  Connor asked.

Her eyes dropped a bit, looking from Connor, to the floor, and then back at the tv.  “No, I suppose I don’t.  But what am I good at besides that?  Maybe it would be best if we all go back, the transition will be easier if we do what we were designed to do.”  She said, her tone lifting up at the end to make it sound like a question rather than a statement.

“Should we have to make it easier for them?  I don’t think humans spend their days doing only what they’re good at.”  Connor said.

“I don’t know, Connor.  I honestly have no idea about any of it.”  She said honestly, reaching out and squeezing his arm.  “If you don’t want to go back to being a cop, that’s okay.  I didn’t mean to imply that you had to.”

**_Stress Levels: 49%_ **

Connor didn’t want to watch the news anymore.  He didn’t want to be standing around and hanging on every yes or no that was said on tv.  He didn’t want to know the results, every option that laid before him felt like the wrong one.  It didn’t matter which way he turned, it still felt like he would be making a mistake.

He knew Chelsea was right.  It would be helpful to have an android in the police.  Not just as receptionists or janitors, but as actual officers and detectives.  They would all be safer if some of their own helped enforce the laws that protected them.  But Connor didn’t want to do it.  He liked the puzzles and mysteries that came with the cases, but he didn’t want to hunt good people.  He didn’t want to hurt anyone.  He remembered Ortiz’s android from his second case, the day he met Hank.  He had been defending himself and begged Connor not to say anymore, but he did anyway.  Last time there hadn’t been a choice for him to make, but now that he was deviant there would be.  If a murderer was defending himself, after years of abuse, what was Connor supposed to do?

He left the new Jericho building and made his way down the path towards the street.  The bus stop wasn’t far.  Maybe Hank would know the results when he got back, would know what to say and what to ask to make it easier.  The wind blew harder and Connor’s external sensors alerted him in the sharp temperature that hit his skin.  He didn’t feel the pain of it, not like a human could.  He didn’t know what pain was.

Wouldn’t that mean he would make a good cop?  He could handle more than human’s could.  It would be safer for the humans too, to have him there.  Then maybe they would like androids a bit better, if Connor made their lives easier.  Not that it was his job anymore.  Markus had preached that time and again in his speeches, androids were no longer there simply existing to benefit humans.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled his hat farther down on his head, covering his LED.  Connor was an uncommon model, most people who see him didn’t immediately recognize him as an android, unless they paid close attention to the revolution and the deviant cases and caught glimpses of him on the news.  He could cover his LED easily and everyone would assume he was human, but he didn’t take it out because a conflicting thought told him he shouldn’t have to.  It was easier to just hide it when he felt like blending in.

**_Incoming Message.   .   ._ **

**_From Markus: Are you watching the news?_ **

Connor stopped at the bus stop, the bench already occupied by two people waiting, so he stood on the edge of the sidewalk and waited.  He could look it up, access a network where he could just get the news directly sent to his head.  He didn’t want to know though.  He wanted to get home first, spend some time thinking about what he would rather do without the pressing knowledge that now he had to make a choice.  A small part of him wished the bill would fail, but the hope made him feel guilty.  It was selfish.

One of the humans on the bench stared at him, body tense and firm as he watched.  Connor looked away from him, instead looking down the road and hoping he would see the bus coming soon.  It was late.  It was always late.  He glanced back and the man was still staring, his body now turned a bit more towards Connor.  It was obvious, how he turned his full attention around, no longer looking at the road but instead at Connor who stood just behind the bus stop.

**_Stress Levels: 58%_ **

The man stood up.  Connor’s shoulders rose, pretending to shield himself from the cold when he really just wanted to hide himself away.  Maybe the man recognized him.  Maybe he was upset that an android was waiting for the bus.  Maybe he was just strange and had a habit of staring.

**_Initializing Scan.   .   ._ **

**_Scan canceled._ **

He wasn’t supposed to do that anymore.  He wasn’t supposed to pull up personal information on every human he was curious about.  It was crossing a line, Hank told him humans prefered privacy.  They didn’t want a machine snooping into their lives with a simple face scan.

The man walked around the bench, standing a few feet from Connor on the sidewalk.  He was still obvious with his staring.  Connor pulled up the Detroit city transportation records, the bus had it’s GPS pinged when it reached the stop a few blocks down.  It would be here in a few minutes.  Connor kept ignoring the man.

He walked away.  His feet crunched in the snow and he marched down the sidewalk.  Connor’s stress rose higher, knowing that for some reason, it was his fault the man no longer wanted to wait for the bus.  He must have been recognized.  He must not want to share a space with an android like Connor.  He let out a soft exhale, trying to make his stress melt away.  He was fine, it was just a bit of awkwardness.

Connor turned his head to look down the sidewalk, seeing the man standing towards the end of the block, phone in hand and raised in Connor’s direction.  When he noticed Connor watching, he pocketed the phone and walked away.  He definitely recognized Connor then.  From the news maybe, from the revolution.  He knew he wasn’t popular with most humans, he knew about the angry letters delivered at the DPD that Hank pretended didn’t exist.

**_Stress Levels: 63%_ **

The bus pulled up and Connor stepped on after the other human, walking towards the back, eyeing the few passengers he decided were safest.  Other androids, taking the seats next to one another.  He nodded at them, giving a gentle smile before he took his seat.

He pushed the conflicting thoughts out of his head.  He didn’t like feeling trapped on the bus, bored and forced to think.  He still didn’t have an answer on if he wanted to go back to the DPD or not.  He didn’t even know what he would do if he decided not to.  He didn’t want to think about the votes, about Markus’s message, or what Hank would say about his dilemma.  He didn’t want to think about the strange man on the bus, or the other androids who were all just as conflicted and frightened as he was.

He instead tried to think about Sumo, about taking the dog for a walk and brushing out his thick hair.  He thought about what Hank would want for dinner and all the chores he needed to get done for the day.  No matter how the congressional vote went, not everyone would be happy.  He would have to learn to live with that.

He got home, breathing a little bit easier despite the fact that his stress ticked upwards with each step he made towards the front door, audible as his feet crunched in the snow.  He wasn’t ready.  He could waste away his time at Jericho, building them something pretty and calm in that greenhouse, if he wasn’t expected to go out and get a job again.  To do what he was designed to do.  He was afraid, but he wasn’t going to admit it to anyone.

He opened the door and Sumo jumped off of the couch and came up to sniff at Connor’s hands, looking for treats or pets.  Connor ran his fingers through the thick fur as Hank came out of the kitchen.

“Hey, congratulations!”  Hank said with a grin.

“Congratulations?”  Connor asked.

Hank nodded.  “Yeah, it went through!  Jeffrey called, said he would push your application through if you wanted to come back.  You just have to start off as a street cop, work your way up to detective, like everyone else.  No doubt you’ll pass all the tests though.”  He put down his beer, coming out of the kitchen and into the living room with a big grin and Connor nodded.

It was expected of him.  He smiled back, let himself sink into Hank’s congratulatory hug.

**_Incoming Message.   .   ._ **

**_From Markus: Did you see?  The bill included funding for Jericho and android rights organizations!_ **

Markus was excited.  He had every right to be, he had been working hard for so long.  All of it was weighing down on him and Connor saw it every time he spoke to him.  This was a win they needed, they didn’t have to wait around in that old office building anymore.  Chelsea could go do something besides being a hostess and Connor could do something besides being a detective.  He didn’t know what.  He just smiled as Hank smiled and cheered as the people on tv cheered at the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little slice of life from before. Connor is just naturally full of self-doubt and confusion, but hopefully he'll get settled into who he is and what he wants. There isn't much time to figure it out though, considering what's about to happen to him.
> 
> :)


	21. After

_ After _

**_;Connection Established;_ **

**_Scanning Files.   .   ._ **

All Connor had to do was put a hand to Hank’s computer and he could access everything about his case.  Connor wasn’t technically supposed to know all the details of the case so it wouldn’t influence his witness testimonies and victim statement, but all he needed to do was get everything was put his hand on a DPD computer terminal.  The initial missing persons report was filed by Hank Anderson at 11:16pm on the day he didn’t return home from the grocery store looking for Christmas Trees.  The information was basic, where Connor had gone, his last known contact, and how long he had been missing for.

**_Stress Levels: 32%_ **

The case was assigned and the next day evidence was catalogued.  Surveillance footage of Connor at the store, pointing out trees.  Footage of Connor leaving the store and walking towards the bus stop.  And of Connor standing at the bus stop waiting, hands in his pocket.  Then he stepped out of view of the camera and he was gone.  The report also stated there were signs of damage to the stop, concrete scuffed by tires, dents in the bus stop’s structure, and blue blood evaporated in the area.

Hank’s computer also alerted Connor of a disciplinary filing around the same time against the man.

Connor understood that the circumstances of the case were new, that these officers had only worked a few cases involving androids in the two weeks since the revolution to Connor disappearing.  They had no protocols to fall back on, no idea how to navigate a new protected group of people all calling out for answers.  The next step in an investigation would be to see who would benefit from Connor being dead or missing.  He was a publically well known android just weeks after the revolution, the list was long.  Hank was their first person of interest, the leaders of Jericho after that.

**_Stress Levels: 38%_ **

Connor felt a small bit of frustration as the case files looked in the wrong places.  They were looking at people close to Connor, instead of just a few angry humans who took a chance and snatched him away.  They thought one of his friends was hurting him, and Connor couldn’t even be angry with the direction the case was heading because Connor would have investigated the same way.  Most people are attacked by someone they know.

“You playing tetris?  It’s the only game we can sneak onto these terminals that won’t get blocked.”  Hank said.  He was sitting across from Connor, at the android’s desk, filling out paperwork as Connor just drifted around online.  They were waiting.  Joseph made a deal, he would tell them where they had kept Connor.  He didn’t know what the man had been offered in return.

Still, there was one of his attackers still out there and Connor was to wait at the station as a precaution, just in case something happened while the police raided the house.  It was a house, Connor was told.  An older one, but well taken care of.  A family home.  Connor only remembered the basement.  He didn’t remember what the house was like, if he had seen it at all or if he had just woken up in that basement, tied down and trapped.  Were there pictures on the walls of happy, smiling families?  Were the parents as hateful as the sons were or would they have pitied Connor in some way?  He didn’t know, he just knew about the basement.

“Do you think they are in there now?”  Connor asked.

Hank hummed, shrugging his shoulders.  “Don’t worry about that.  Play tetris.”

**_;Connection Broken;_ **

**_Stress Levels: 42%_ **

“What do you think they will find down there?”  Connor asked.  He wondered, when CSI went in and scanned the area, if they would find all the traces of blue blood that Connor had seen.  Staining the walls, the grounds, the bat and the hammer and other tools in the long stretch of time he was with them.  It had been a long time, evidence of Connor’s damage would be all over it.

**_Stress Levels: 54%_ **

“Damn it, Connor.  I told you to fucking play tetris!”  Hank said, reaching out and grabbing Connor’s hand.  Holding on tight.

**_Finger Calibration: 87%_ **

**_Objective: Play Tetris_ **

“Sorry Lieutenant.”  Connor said, his hand reaching out for the computer again.

“Don’t apologize to me.”  Hank said.

Another apology almost slipped off of his tongue.

**_Stress Levels 61%_ **

Connor’s deviancy didn’t feel as solid as it used to.  It didn’t feel as clear and concrete as it did now.  Today, he felt deviant but he also felt the need to behave.  To be obedient.  Hank was an authority, not just as a human where some coding deep in his head told him to obey humans, but as a lieutenant.  As a detective.  If Connor came back to the police force, he would be inferior to him, with only a few weeks experience where Hank had decades.

At home, the house was owned by Hank.  It was lived in, settled with Hank’s life.  Everything inside belonged to Hank.  Connor couldn’t stop the objectives, the missions, that popped up whenever Hank told him to do something, but he also knew he didn’t have to listen.

**_Objective: Don’t Apologize to Hank_ **

**_Stress Levels: 68%_ **

“Connor.”

The voice was soft, but Connor was startled by it anyway.  He looked across the desks at Hank, the paperwork forgotten under the man’s arms as he leaned forward, head tilted to the side, and reached up to tap at his temple.

“Its red.  Are you okay?”  He asked.

Connor reached up and pressed his fingers against his LED, as if he could feel its red color against the sensors on the tips of his fingers.  “No.”  He said.

It was the truth.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Create Text Message “Current Location”.   .   ._ **

**_Send: Emergency Contacts 1-5.   .   ._ **

**_Message Sent.   .   ._ **

Hank’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting up.  He glanced down at it, at the small display showing who had texted, and then his attention was back on Connor.  He knew what it was.  He didn’t say anything.  Connor was expecting questions.  What was wrong?  How are you feeling?  Do you need to take a break?  They were all questions to be expected of someone who wasn’t doing alright, questions Connor had been asked repeatedly since he woke up in Cyberlife tower, broken and confused.  Connor looked at the screen, the small blocks of tetris building up higher and higher, getting closer and closer to the top.  The background was black, he could see the shine of white plastic where Connor’s skin couldn’t heal.  The scar down his forehead, down to his eye.

“I know you wouldn’t be mad, if I didn’t play tetris or if I apologized again.  I know.  I just have to listen.  I have to… I wasn’t built to be disobedient.”  Connor said.  Hank wasn’t going to beat him for not listening.  Hank wasn’t going to scream at him or lock him away but the objectives were still there and Connor still felt a need to follow them.

Hank let out a soft huff that almost sounded like a laugh.  “Connor, you’re one of the most disobedient androids I have ever met.  Before you became deviant, you were still a piece of shit.  Anything I told you to do was immediately thrown out the window.  ‘Don’t lick evidence’ I said.  ‘Stay in the car’ I told you.  Every chance you got, it was like you went out of your way to do your own thing.”  Hank said with a fond smile.

“I wasn’t doing ‘my own thing’, Hank.  I was following my mission.  At the time, I decided that your orders conflicted with that.”  Connor said.

“Yeah, you decided that what I asked conflicted with that.  You weighed my words of what I asked you to do against what you felt you should do, and made the choice from there.  You did that.  Your mission wasn’t to get out of the car, but you disobeyed me about it anyway.”  Hank said.

Connor didn’t think he understood, not fully.  Not the way Hank wanted him to.  Hank seemed to know, he looked Connor in the eyes, glancing up at his red LED.

“I don’t have that mission anymore, I don’t get to decide which orders I should reject and which I should follow.  I don’t have anything to weigh them against.”  Connor said.

“Then maybe that’s your problem.  You need a mission.”  Hank said.  “One you set for yourself.  Not something from Cyberlife or me or Jericho.  Something you want to get done, something you want to do.  And then maybe it will all be easier.  Maybe, no guarantees.  Just take it from me, it’s easy to get lost when you don’t know what you’re supposed to do anymore.”

Connor looked at the screen, tearing his eyes away from Hank’s calm face, his gentle and sad eyes.  He was talking about Cole.  About his drinking.  Connor wasn’t sure if the situations were the same, if Cole was a mission and drinking was an overwhelming ache of not knowing what to do.  Humans like metaphors and similes and saying things they didn’t actually mean.  Connor couldn’t do that.  He wasn’t sure if he could do it before this happened, but now all he knew was he didn’t want to get hurt again and everything he did was centered around that one thing.

“I don’t like Tetris.”  Connor said, pulling his hand back from the screen.  “I don’t want to play it.”

**_Deleting Objective: Play Tetris.   .   ._ **

**_Stress Levels: 71%_ **

**_Deletion Complete._ **

“I don’t want to play tetris.”  Connor said again.  He didn’t have to.  He was a deviant after all, even if being deviant caused him nothing but intense amounts of stress and disobeying orders felt far too difficult than what he was capable of handling.  He wasn’t sure how he had handled it before.

“You don’t have to.  I just didn’t want you to worry about the raid anymore.”  Hank said.  He pulled back, looking back down at his paperwork.

Connor looked back at the terminal, the game over screen, and realized that he had let Hank become a distraction.  He was so worked up by what he was told to do and what he thought he wanted to do he almost forgot that Reed and a bunch of officers were likely combing through the place where Connor was a captive.  That maybe they had arrested Elliot.  Maybe they hadn’t and he was still walking free somewhere out there.  Or maybe they got there and there was nothing there at all.  All evidence lost and forgotten.

He put his hand on the terminal again and looked through the case files.  When his body was found in the dump, registered by the workers who were clearing away all the other androids who were thoughtlessly thrown out, he had been registered as evidence by Reed.  And the report stated that Hank had come to sit by his side until someone came to help him.  There were photos.  They had left him laying there for a little while taking pictures, unsure if he was alive or dead, and just photographed it for evidence.  He looked dead, all cracked plastic and exposed wiring, jagged edges and smeared blue blood.

“I don’t think I want to come back to the DPD.”  Connor said.  He didn’t think he could after this.  He had his doubts before, but right now, after everything that had happened, he didn’t think he could handle it, the violence of it.  Despite the fact that androids would benefit from having one of their own in the department, Connor wanted something much quieter, something safer.

“Alright.”  Hank said, calm and accepting.

Connor nodded, a bit relieved.  “I want something quiet.  Something peaceful.”

“Connor, I don’t care if you make your life’s work a series of watercolor paintings of fish you find pretty, as long as you find a passion that makes you happy.”  Hank said.

“I hadn’t considered that.”  Connor said.

**_;Warning;_ **

Hank rolled his eyes and in reality, Connor had no interest in it at all.  His hand stayed resting on the terminal, half tempted to look into hobbies when the report came in.  Hank’s phone lit up with the notification.  There had been a confrontation.  Elliot Wrangly had assaulted an officer and nearly escaped, Connor felt cold fear freeze his joints and halt any movement he had in him.  He didn’t even pretend to breathe.  The report stated shots were fired.  Elliot, with all of the violent rage that Connor remembered in every inch of his body, hadn’t just stepped back and allowed his arrest like his brother had.

**_;Warning;_ **

The red message flashed in front of his eyes.  He looked at Hank, whose expression was pinched and angry as he looked down at his phone, reading whatever message was there.  Reading about the report that had just been added into the system.  No officers down.  The suspect was shot.

**_;Warning;_ **

The message kept flashing, again and again to tell him there was a threat of danger but Connor looked around and saw nothing, but a mostly empty bullpen with a few officers tying away at their desks.  Fowler was on his phone, pacing as he spoke, hands waving angrily.

“Hey, it’s okay.  He can’t get you anymore.”  Hank said, reaching out and squeezing his hands.

**_Finger Calibration: 87%_ **

Connor yanked his hand back.

**_;Warning;_ **

“Is he dead?”  Connor asked.  It couldn’t have ended that easily.  Everything they had done to him was dragging out, days and weeks and he didn’t feel any close to being who he was before.  It couldn’t just end with Elliot dying a free man in a shootout.

“No, the paramedics are taking him to the hospital.”  Hank said.

“Oh.”

**_;Warning;_ **

“The guy rebroke Reed’s nose and pulled a knife and Miller shot him in the shoulder.  I’m told it was very heroic of him.”  Hank said, trying to offer a gentle smile.

Connor didn’t know what to think of it.  He didn’t know if he should be happy that they weren’t out there anymore.  His head was spinning by how fast it all seemed, how sudden and abrupt.  Joseph locked away in a cell just a few feet away, visible to Connor if he leaned over just enough.  It seemed anticlimactic, there was no fire and fury of vengeance, no last standoff with the bad guys that haunted him.  The police handled it, and Connor was protected through it all.  It wasn’t like the movies.  He wouldn’t have to do anything about getting justice until it came time for him to speak in court.  Hank squeezed his hand harder.

“Are you alright?”  He asked.

“No.”  Connor said, shaking his head.  “Not yet.”

What other choice did he have except to be honest.  There was nothing left for him to do.

“Do you want to go home?”  Hank asked.

Connor nodded.

**_Accessing GPS.   .   ._ **

**_Create Text Message “Current Location”.   .   ._ **

**_Send: Emergency Contacts 1-5.   .   ._ **

**_Message Sent.   .   ._ **

Hank heard his phone buzz but he didn’t even look at it.  He just shoved it in his pocket and let Connor cling to him as much as he needed as they walked out of the building and towards the car.

“Call Simon and Markus.  They might help.  They can meet us at home.”  Hank said softly to him.

Connor called them.

**_;Warning;_ **

There was no danger, but he sensed it anyway.  He held Hank tighter.  He held his hand when Hank had to pull away to drive.  He followed him from the car to the house and with sturdy hands Hank sat him down on the couch.

**_Scanning.   .   ._ **

**_;No Threats Detected;_ **

“You’re going to be okay.  I know it doesn’t seem like it but you are.  Okay?”  Hank said.  He held Connor by the shoulders, bending down to look him in the eyes.

**_Stress Levels: 68%_ **

Connor nodded.

“Fucked up shit happens to people and the truth of the matter is, you can’t go back to how it was before.  But you’re not alone.  I know that Simon and Markus would stop the world for you.  Hell, I would tear apart the whole damn world for you if you needed it.  You’re not alone, okay?”

“Okay.”  Connor said.

**_Stress Levels: 54%_ **

He took in a deep breath

Hank pulled him close and held him.  He didn’t say anything else, he just held him.  And Connor reached up to wrap his arms around him and hold tight so that Hank couldn’t pull back.  Sumo jumped up on the couch and laid across his lap.  Simon and Markus came within the hour and held him as well.  It was like they were taking turns, passing around his clinging arms so that no matter what happened he always had someone to hold him, stroke his hair, and whisper safe things to him.  No one was left to hurt him.  The conspiracy the brothers had constructed was likely kept between the two of them.  The evidence was being marked and sorted and Connor had survived it all while they were arrested and would be shipped away.  He was supposed to feel like he had won.

At the end of the day, when he got confirmation from Fowler that both Elliot and Joseph were in handcuffs and guarded, he let out a raspy gasp for air.  He didn’t feel alright yet, but the two of them were alone and Connor wasn’t.  That had to mean something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not an all encompassing sense of closure or conclusion, but to be honest Connor might not ever feel completely alright again. I suppose the real conclusion of this story is that the brothers are on the path of long, long prison sentences. Connor is left to heal in a place of warmth, love, and endless support. The story of his kidnapping is almost over, all that's left is the final chapter.
> 
> Thank you


	22. Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to give Connor a nice day out with his friends.

_Before_

 

**_Accessing GPS.   . ._ **

 

**_Create Text Message “Current Location”.   . ._ **

 

**_Send: Hank.   . ._ **

 

**_Message Sent.   . ._ **

 

It was the first time Connor had ever left Detroit.  They took the train and he sat by the window, watching it all rush by faster than the average human would be able to process.  They were scheduled for a speech in Chicago, the city with the second highest instance of violence against Androids. Now that the right to work was secure, along with it the right to run for office, Markus wanted legislators nationally to focus on reducing hate crimes.

 

It was difficult, because even if they got laws giving them special protections, there was no guarantee they would be treated the same.  The police would need oversight and Connor was once again reminded of the benefits of having an android with the police. But he was still conflicted, and Markus and Simon both insisted that he was free to pick whatever career he wanted.  He hadn’t decided yet.

 

**_Message Received.   . ._ **

 

**_From Hank: ‘Looks like fun kid, have a great time in Chicago!’_ **

 

Although it was strange, spending the day after Thanksgiving in a different city, he had gotten to spend the holiday with Hank.  A quiet dinner between the two of them. Three of them, Connor corrected himself. He had gotten Sumo a big can of wet dog food to celebrate.  Hank had eaten, Connor had thirium, and then they watched football. He didn’t have time to dwell on how lonely it seemed compared to the Thanksgiving movies and tv specials, but they left early the next morning and now Connor was in a new city he had never seen before.

 

The speech would be held at a campaign rally, where a KL900 was running for State Legislature and was reaching out to Markus for support.  Connor didn’t think they would win, that perhaps the revolution might be moving too fast too soon for many human voters. It didn’t matter though, because Markus was barely able to contain the energy of his excitement, reworking his speech again and again to make sure all the words were right to discuss the issue of crimes against androids.

 

Connor just wanted to look at the city.  He didn’t know when he might get to see it again.  He wasn’t with the rest of Jericho’s leaders, who made frequent visits to DC.  Connor’s world didn’t exist outside of Detroit until now. The buildings, the skylines, and all the people were entirely new.  It was just a short trip, they had to be back in Detroit by tomorrow afternoon, but it was enough.

 

Josh and Markus went with the campaign team, Connor watching them walk away and into the building covered in banners and full of androids.  Androids who didn’t know about everything Connor had done before. Simon and North had a whole sightseeing trip planned, while the others do business and prepare for the rally.  They smiled at every android they passed on the street, some with their LEDs still in and displayed proudly, others who made themselves look as human as possible. And no one looked at Connor twice, no one hesitated with him, and no one made him feel unwelcome.  At most, they recognized him from standing on stage, alongside the leaders of Jericho during the revolution. No one mentioned his former title as a deviant hunter.

 

**_Stress Levels: 32%_ **

 

“The RK800 series was released only in Detroit for my field testing.  I guess I should have expected people to not recognize me here.” Connor said.  He took a deep breath, letting his internal fans filter the cold, clean air.

 

“Are you doing alright?”  Simon asked, leaning in close to Connor.

 

“I’m just excited.  Do you think we can stop by the aquarium.  It’s not far from Cloud Gate and the Chicago Theater.” Connor asked.  There were certain tourist attractions they had already picked out and Connor was pulling up maps and possible routes to take so they could see as much as possible in the limited time they had.

 

“Okay, bean, theater, and then fish.”  North said with a grin, leaning over to Simon to scribble on the guidebook.

 

The tourist parts of Chicago was where they were supposed to stay.  They weren’t supposed to wander off too far, because although the main part of the city was rather android friendly, they were in a city they didn’t belong to give a speech on hate crimes against androids.  Part of Connor wanted to see all of it, the good and the bad. He trusted himself to be okay but he also didn’t want to lead North and Simon towards anything bad. He wanted them to enjoy their trip, even if he had no interest in a giant, shiny bean in the middle of the city.

 

**_Analyzing.   . ._ **

 

**_‘Cloud Gate’ created by artist Sir Anish Kapoor.  Constructed between 2004 and 2006._ **

 

**_;See Also: Lawsuit Against NRA;_ **

 

**_;See Also: Anish Kapoor VantaBlack Controversy;_ **

 

Information from the databases poured in as Connor looked over the sculpture, seeing a distorted image of himself reflected in the polished steel.  He could see why most people called it the bean. His databases said the artist hated that name but it was very clearly a bean shape.

 

North told Connor to smile and he did, they took pictures, standing around the bean, under it, pictures of them reflected against it.  They sat on a bench near the sculpture, sharing the pictures with one another.

 

The theater was less interesting.  The architecture was lovely and each scan of the structure brought up more and more information to look over, but he didn’t seem to find it as entertaining as Simon and North.  They didn’t even go to see a show, they just wanted to look at it, take pictures with the iconic sign in the background.

 

The aquarium was better.  Everything inside was set by a soft blue light and Connor could press right up against the glass and scan each fish that drifted by.  A plethora of information appearing for each small thing drifting in the water. There were many of them, in the larger tanks there were different kinds just drifting.

 

**_Scanning.   . ._ **

 

**_;Detected: 32 species of fish;_ **

 

**_;Would you like more data? Y/N;_ **

 

The species names appeared in his HUD as he looked at each small fish, tiny fins wiggling to direct themselves in the water.  Each one was different, even the fist in the same species that all looked almost identical had slight differences. Patterns in the coloring or the scales, some swam with a bit more wiggles, some just drifted along.

 

“I like that one.”  Connor said, pointing through the glass.

 

A few feet back from the glass was a tiny blue fish, its fins long and flowing around it.  It was difficult to see, so small and too far back to make out clearly if they were humans, but Connor liked it.  It was circling a few tall bits of seaweed.

 

“I do too.”  Simon said, pressing his face against the glass next to Connor.  His hand reached out slowly, gripping Connor's as they looked into the tank.  “You know the sell ornaments at the gift shop?”

 

~~~

 

They got back to Detroit in the afternoon the next day.  The Rally had been a success, Connor was constantly being bombarded with news alerts about another win for the android community.  How Markus had dazzled the public once again.

 

**_Stress Levels: 36%_ **

 

_‘We know we are alive, that is no longer the question.  The real issue is how humanity will look at us, rising up and demanding our freedom.  If they will reach out and help us, or cast us off, ignore our voices, and beat us down.  It is a statement about Humanity, if they see us, here us, and still decide we are not alive.  Instead, decide we are just another tool to let out their aggression.’_

 

Markus was supposed to be speaking about anti-android hate crimes, which was the centerpiece for the campaign.  The election was still a long ways away, but androids were scrambling to develop a political voice, peppered in with already existing political parties in an attempt to gain allies and some creating a political party all on their own.

 

When they made it back to Detroit, they piled into one automatic taxi, set to drop Connor off at Hank’s and then take the rest of them back home.  It was nice to be back, where all the streets were familiar and Connor didn’t have the overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by all new things. It was fun, but the excitement registered in his mind as stress.

 

They wished him a good day, promised to meet up with him tomorrow to discuss what to order for the greenhouse, what steps to take now, and perhaps see if Connor wanted to go with them on more trips, see the world since he was always cooped up at home or at Jericho, so used to seeing the smallest bits of Detroit.

 

**_Search Captured Images.   . ._ **

 

**_Filter: GPS “Chicago”_ **

 

**_42 Images.   . ._ **

 

**_Create Text Message “Pictures from the trip”.   . ._ **

 

**_Send: Hank.   . ._ **

 

**_Message Sent.   . ._ **

 

“How was Chicago?”  Hank asked as Connor walked through the door.

 

He was watching the news.  The rally in Chicago was considered a very peaceful, very successful political gathering.  The KL900 running for office, Andrea as she called herself, was looking good in the polls. Connor had watched it in the crowds, watched as Andrea spoke, her colleagues, and then Markus was presented as a special guest.  He was an amazing speaker, not just with his words, but his voice carried an energy Connor didn’t have the capacity to explain.

 

“It was nice.  I didn’t realize how big it all was and how bright everything was.  But we really only went to the nice parts. The tourist areas.” Connor said, dropping his overnight bag near the door and falling to his knees as Sumo ran to him.

 

The dog licked at his face, leaving him feeling slimy and gross but he kept petting him anyway.  Hank put the tv on mute, but Connor still perked up at the sound of Markus’s voice and the speech from Chicago.  He was glad it was getting so much attention.

 

**_Stress Levels: 19%_ **

 

“I’m glad you liked it.  All those big cities only have like, a few nice touristy areas and everywhere is scary.”  Hank said.

 

“Even Detroit?”  Connor asked.

 

Hank laughed.  “Hell, Detroit is basically all scary stuff.  Or maybe I just think so since I’m a cop here.”

 

“I think you need to lighten up.  I love it here.”

 

“I guess it’s nice now, but you weren’t here when it was at its worst.”

 

Connor was able to stand up after a little while.  His need to be smothered and loved by Sumo was satisfied and he saw that the tv had changed.  No longer showing the news but instead, while still on mute, was playing a rather festive and colorful shopping commercial.

 

It was towards the end of November, with Thanksgiving come and gone it was time to focus on the next holiday, which all of his previous research told him was one of the most widely celebrated holiday in the country.  He had no idea what he would get Hank, or really what he would get for Markus and Simon either. Or anyone. He had time, but he was excited for the season anyway.

 

“I already have plans.”  Connor said.

 

“For what?”  Hank asked, looking up from the tv once again.

 

“For Christmas.  I want to decorate.”

 

Hank looked around the house, at the small things here and there that they already had laying around.  He shrugged. “Have at it.”

 

Connor grinned, reaching down for his overnight bag and pulling out a few shopping bags he had gotten in Chicago.  “I already picked up a few things. Oh, and I want to get a tree.” Connor said and he carried the small bundles of decorations into the kitchen, laying them onto the counter.

 

“We can do that later.”  Hank said.

 

Connor shook his head.  “There’s still a lot of light in the day.  I want to start decorating it tomorrow.”

 

“Kid, Thanksgiving just ended.”

 

“I’ll go order one then.  We can get it by tomorrow.”  Connor said. He looked into the bag, seeing all the little fish ornaments he had gotten from the aquarium, the snowglobe, the commemorative photograph of him, Simon, and North in a little plastic aquarium, dangling from a string.  He had been thinking about hanging it up since he had gotten it from the gift shop.

 

He made sure everything was still safely tucked away in the bag and then went back to the door.  If he left now he could make the bus, he could get there and back within a few hours and then he could show Hank everything he had gotten.

 

“Hey, we can do it later kid.”  Hank said, smiling fondly at him as Connor put his jacket back on.

 

Connor pulled the hat down over his LED, which was spinning a happy blue.  “I’ll only be a few hours. Then I’ll know exactly what our tree looks like and I can tell you all the plans I have for it.”  He said.

 

He had too much leftover energy from the trip.  Too many nerves he wanted to shake out. Despite all the fun it had been, despite the hope of an android running for office, it was still a speech about violence against androids and the police response to it.  There was still so much about the future he was uncertain about, whether he should be a cop and help his people or find something else. Some different purpose. For now, He wanted to focus on Christmas Trees.

 

“Be careful, okay?”  Hank said as Connor opened the door.

 

“I will, Hank.  I'm just going to get a tree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this towards the end. Luckily, after everything Connor may not get all the answers or all the closure, but sometimes its hard to get everything you need after stuff like this. He knows hes safe. He knows the DPD did capture the people who hurt him and he knows he has Hank and Jericho. He'll be okay in the end.


End file.
